The Caged Beast
by CityofAngel
Summary: The new student needs help. In dealing with her, Logan can be a bit too harsh, and Warren a bit too soft. But she needs to learn control and acceptance before her gift becomes a threat, to herself and everyone else. PostX3, PreX4. Title changed.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Stan Lee and the rest of the Marvel geniuses own all the characters, places, and concepts that fall under the magnificent and vast universe they created. I am just a humble writer who owns nothing but this story.

**THE NEXT PHOENIX**

**PROLOGUE**

_Twenty years ago…_

It was another warm and pleasant summer night in Newburgh, New York, when a black Mercedes pulled up in front of a modest ranch-style house along a street of middle-class suburban residences.

At the sound of the ringing doorbell, a little girl of five years came running from the living room couch straight to the front door. After fumbling unsuccessfully with the door locks, she finally turned in frustration and shouted for assistance.

"Daddy, Daddy! Uncle Chuck is here! Hurry!"

At her call, a strapping man with brown hair and kind green eyes emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Okay, okay! Calm down, sweetie. He's not going anywhere else but this house," he said, chuckling.

The moment the front door was opened, the little girl squealed and pounced excitedly on the visitor that waited patiently on the porch.

"Uncle Chuck! You made it! You're here!"

The distinguished looking gentleman—"Uncle Chuck"—smiled broadly at the child that wrapped her arms around his waist. He patted the small brunette's head affectionately before stooping down to return her embrace.

"Of course I am," he said. "Would I ever pass up the chance to visit my most favorite goddaughter?"

"All right, Alana. That's enough. Give your uncle even just a little room to breathe, will you?" Alana's father stepped out into the porch and smiled at their guest. "Hello Charles. Good to see you again."

"Indeed it is Kevin," Charles Xavier said, returning the smile.

"We're all glad you finally found the time to drop by and visit," Kevin Stratford said. "This one especially," he added, patting his daughter' shoulder and tousling her hair.

"Come on inside, Uncle Chuck!" Alana said, tugging at the man's hand eagerly. "I want to show you my room before dinner."

As the three re-entered the living room, a pretty blonde woman came out of the kitchen to meet them.

"Good evening, Sarah," Charles greeted the lady of the house with a smile. "Thank you for having me."

Sarah Stratford nodded her head, but the smile she gave in return did not quite reach her eyes. "Your visits are always a pleasure Charles," she told him. "Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. In the meantime, why don't you have a seat and make yourself comfortable here?"

She turned to her daughter and held out a hand to her. "Honey, would you come and help Mommy in the kitchen please?"

The girl's eyes widened as she shook her head in protest. "But I want to stay here and talk to Uncle Chuck!"

Sarah's eyes suddenly hardened at this stubborn refusal. "Alana…" she began in a warning voice, before her husband stepped in.

"Let her stay, Sarah." Kevin urged gently. "After all, she hasn't seen her godfather in a while. I'll go help you."

As the couple left the room, Charles seated himself on the living room sofa, and Alana settled down next to him.

"Why haven't you been coming to visit, Uncle Chuck?" the little girl asked. "Have you been busy? What have you been doing?"

"Yes, I have been busy," Charles answered, amused by her curiosity. "You see Alana…I've just opened up a new school. I'm going to be teaching and running it, right in my own house."

"A school?" Alana's vibrant green eyes grew even larger. "What kind of school?"

"Well…it's a little like the school that you go too." Charles said slowly. "Only it's for bigger and older children…"

"And you will be teaching there?" Alana pressed. "Wow! I'm sure you'll be a really good teacher, Uncle Chuck! Even better than Mrs. Peterson."

Her godfather chuckled softly and patted her hand. "Well, I certainly hope so."

Just then, Kevin came back into the room. "Dinner's ready you two. Come and get it."

Alana immediately jumped off the couch and ran to her father, grabbing his hand. "Daddy, can I go and study in Uncle Chuck's new school? Can I? Please?"

Kevin looked at his daughter in confusion before glancing at Charles. "What do you mean, Pumpkin?"

"Uncle Chuck's going to open his own school, and I want to go and study there too!" Alana said, shaking her father's hand. "Wouldn't that be great, Daddy? I can learn a lot from him!"

"Well, we have to see about that." Kevin told her, as they walked into the dining room together. "Your Uncle hasn't told me about his new school yet, so I have to know what it's about first."

"Who cares what it's about?" Alana said stubbornly. "If Uncle Chuck is running it, I bet it's great!"

"What will be great?" Sarah asked, as she set down a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.

"Uncle Chuck's school!" Alana said in exasperation. "I can go, I right Mom?"

Sarah frowned and looked at her husband for an explanation. Before Kevin could even open his mouth to speak, Charles beat him to it.

"I was just telling Alana about my most recent venture of opening a private school for youngsters," he explained calmly. "It will be a boarding school, operating at my father's estate. And I shall be teaching on top of running it as headmaster."

"Really Charles?" Kevin said, as they all took their seats around the table. "That sounds like a great idea! Doesn't it, honey?"

Sarah pursed her lips, and there was a brief pause before she spoke. "It sounds well enough," she said shortly. "But I don't think Alana should…"

"Actually…" Charles interrupted before she could finish her statement. "I was also just about to tell Alana that she's not going to be able to enter the school to study there."

Alana stared at her godfather as though she were just seeing him for the first time. "Wh-what?"

Charles turned his kind gaze to the young girl and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry my dear," he said. "But it's just not the right school for you. There are strict admission requirements that you just won't be able to meet. It's a school for gifted youngsters."

Kevin shook his head. "I don't know about that Charles," he said with a grin. "Alana's been consistently at the top of her class ever since she started school. I would have to say she's as pretty gifted as she can get."

Charles smiled. "Certainly," he said. "But academic excellence is not the sort of gift I'm referring to."

Though stated so calmly and simply, these words caused a stony silence to fall upon the table. Confused by the sudden quiet, Alana stared back and forth between her father's trouble face and her mother's angry expression.

"What?" she demanded, finally breaking the silence. "What is it? I don't understand…"

"Never mind, Alana," her mother cut in abruptly. Hands slightly trembling, she took the bowl of potatoes and started filling her daughter's plate. "Come on and eat your dinner, before it gets cold."

"But Mommy…" Alana whined.

"No buts!" Sarah snapped, her voice rising sharply. "You heard what Charles said, and your father and I agree with him! You're not going to that school—end of discussion!"

With tear filled eyes, the girl looked at her father for support, but found none in his regretful face. Her godfather's expression was serene, but equally set. There was no one on her side. A rush of uncontrolled feelings swept Alana's heart. Betrayal. Hurt. Anger.

"This is so unfair!" she blurted out, pushing her chair back and leaping to her feet. She turned to her godfather, face flushed and eyes filling with tears. "You just don't want to be with me anymore! That's why you don't come over anymore! That's why you don't think I'm good enough to be in your school!"

"Pumpkin…" Kevin began, but the girl turned on her heel and ran out of the room before anyone could stop her.

Sarah let out an exasperated sigh and got up from her chair. "You shouldn't have mentioned the school to her at all, Charles!" she said, the anger now clear and unmasked in her tone. "You knew how much she would want to go, and you know that very well that she will never be able to!"

Charles shook his head. "I do apologize for the commotion this has caused, Sarah," he said as calmly as ever. "But Alana was bound to know about my plans sooner or later. And let us be fair about it—how are we to know that she would never get her chance to come to my school in the future?"

Sarah glared at him, all affected emotion now completely drained from her face. "What are you trying to say?" she hissed.

"Simply…that anything is possible," Charles responded, meeting the woman's infuriated gaze evenly. "Especially in Alana's case. I have said so before. You know that."

"No, let me tell you what YOU should know, Charles Xavier!" Sarah said angrily. "MY daughter will NEVER go to your school. Not now, or ever! Because there is nothing wrong with her, and no matter what either of you says or thinks, she will never be like you OR your kind!"

As Sarah stormed out of the room, Charles rose from his seat as well. "I am sorry the evening had to turn out like this," he said with a sigh. "But perhaps it would be best if I just took my leave now."

Kevin nodded and rubbed his face wearily. "I understand."

A few minutes later, the two men were outside the front yard, walking towards the curb where Charles' Mercedes was parked. "Charles…" Kevin said hesitantly, before the other man could open the car door. "Do you really think that a time will come when Alana will need to be taught at your school? I mean, how great are the chances that she might actually…someday…you know…"

"Come now, Kevin." Charles replied with a small smile. "Predicting the future is not part of my abilities. However…"

This face turning somber once more, Charles put a firm hand on Kevin's shoulder. "…should the time ever come, I WILL know it. And as her godfather, I will be there for her."

"That is my promise."

**To be continued...**


	2. Late Admission

**Author's Note: **For those who are wondering about the romance pairings, I've decided to stick with the Bobby/Rogue and Peter/Kitty. As for the OC character, (Alana), you can expect her to have some romance going on with both Warren and Logan, but it's still undecided whom she will end up with. That would depend on readers' reviews and how the story flows from my head. Hehe. So we'll see.

Thanks a lot to those who reviewed the last chapter! I hope more people will read from now on…

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**CHAPTER ONE – Late Admission**

"Hey Peter! Wait up!"

Peter Rasputin paused in his tracks and turned his head to see Bobby Drake walking towards him, hand-in-hand with his girlfriend Marie. He smiled at the sight of the excited looks on their faces.

"About time," he said, as the pair caught up with him and they started down the hall together. "For a while there I thought you were actually planning on being late for our first staff meeting."

"Are you kidding?" Bobby said with a grin. "After the years we've waited to graduate and see this day? We can't act like a bunch of irresponsible rule-breakers anymore. We're _teachers_ now." He paused and shook his head, still grinning widely. "Whoa…until now just saying it gives even ME the shivers!"

Marie punched his arm playfully. "Well, don't get yourself TOO excited," she told him. "It's not like Storm had much of a choice in giving us an early promotion. There was just no way they could go on another new school year with a four-man teaching staff."

Peter nodded. "True," he said. "But still, I'd like to think that they saw at least _some_ potential in us that made us fit for the job." He paused and checked his watch. "Whoa, we'd better step it up a little. I don't want to be one of the last ones to get there."

When they arrived at the faculty lounge, the three were surprised to find only Kitty Pryde and Warren Worthington waiting for them. The three head teachers were no where in the room.

"Wait, did we get the time wrong?" Marie asked, eyes widening with alarm. "Don't tell me we've missed the meeting completely!"

Warren smiled and shook his head. "Nah," he reassured her. "Storm said she's just gonna be a bit late. She and Hank have an admissions meeting with one of the new students."

"Another latecomer, huh?" Bobby remarked, as he and Marie settled down into the couch opposite Warren and Kitty. "So what's the story? What's this one like?"

"Well, something tells me she's not one of your ordinary recruits, that's for sure," Warren replied.

"When did anyone 'ordinary' ever come into this school?" Peter joked, walking over to where Kitty sat, totally absorbed in the book she was reading. He reached over and tapped on the hardbound biology textbook in the girl's hands. "Hey, you've have your nose buried in that monster all day. Don't you think you deserve a break?"

Kitty moaned as she lowered the textbook and looked up at him. "I'm just nervous for my first bio class tomorrow," she said, slipping off her reading glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I don't think I'm ready for it yet."

Peter smiled and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Of course you are," he assured her. "You were always at the top of all our science classes, remember? That's why Storm chose you to teach the basic courses. I'm sure you'll do great."

Kitty smiled back. "Thanks Pete." She squeezed his hand, oblivious to the knowing looks exchanged between Bobby and Marie.

"Anyway…" Marie went on, turning her attention back to Warren. "What exactly made you say this new kid's out of the ordinary?"

Warren grinned. "Well, to start of, our kids don't drive sports cars," he said. "At least not like the Porsche I saw parked out front."

Bobby whistled. "Well, that must just mean Mommy and Daddy have a lot of money to spread around," he pointed out. "So we'll have another rich kid in the flock. That's company for you, Warren."

"Yeah, except I left everything behind when I came in," Warren retorted.

Just then the door to the lounge opened, and in came a tall, grissly man clad in a brown leather jacket.

"Hmm…excited for a staff meeting?" Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at them with a smirk. "Aren't you the perfect teaching greenhorns. Well, sorry to disappoint you all, but Storm's still busy with the new girl. Meeting's been postponed to tonight after dinner. Right now, we just need a volunteer to go and show her to her room, give her the grand tour and everything."

"Aren't you going to tell us who she is first?" Marie asked.

Logan shrugged. "She's supposed to be famous, but I've never heard of her before," he grunted. "Alana Stratford?"

The girls' reactions were instantaneous.

"Alana Stratford!" Kitty shrieked. "You're kidding!"

"Oh my god," Marie squealed. "I don't believe it!"

Logan scratched his chin. "Funny. That was the reaction I expected to get from these boys, not you two."

Peter looked confused. "Why?"

"Yeah, who's Alana Stratford?" Bobby demanded.

Kitty rolled her eyes. "Come on! She's only like one of the hottest fashion models today. Flip through any random magazine, and you're bound to see her face somewhere in it!"

"Yeah, so? You actually expected us to know that?" Bobby scoffed. "Since when did we ever lay a hand on one of your girlie magazines?"

Kitty stuck her tongue out at him. "Boy, you are going to be so eating those words once you see her," she told him. "She's totally gorgeous. I spent most of my pubescent years just wishing I could be her."

Marie nodded in agreement. "I still can't believe she's a mutant though…" she mused. "I mean…she always looks so put together. And she's always in the spotlight! How come the press never picked up the secret and spread it all over the tabloids?"

Logan walked over to one of the armchairs and settled lazily on it. "From what I heard, she managed to hide away her powers for years. She just blew her cover recently when she lost her temper, trashed a studio, and threw the photographer clear through a six-inch wooden backdrop. The guy sued, and she was ordered by the judge to come here and get some control over her powers."

"Wait," Kitty said slowly. "When you say 'threw the photographer', you mean…"

"She's a telekinetic." Logan said curtly.

"Oh…"

A tense silence hung in the air for a few seconds before Logan cut through it again.

"So, any volunteers? You just gotta show her to her room, help her find her away around…" He looked back and forth between Marie and Kitty. "What's the matter? I thought you'd jump at this chance to spend some time with your precious idol."

Kitty looked down at her lap uncomfortably. "I dunno," she mumbled. "After that story you just told us…"

"We just don't know if it's in our place to handle someone like her," Marie put in quickly. "I mean, she IS older than us and all, and it sounds like she's still sensitive about her being forced to come here…"

"I'll do it."

All heads turned towards Warren, who had remained silent throughout the conversation until that moment. Faced with their questioning looks, Warren just shrugged.

"It's not a big deal," he said quietly. "Like you said, I just have to give her a quick tour right? I've got the time."

Logan nodded. "Fine," he said, rising from his chair. "She'll be coming inside in a while. Right now she's just out in the grounds…saying hello to an old friend."

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The young woman that stood in front of the memorial of the late Charles Xavier was clearly an outsider to the school. Dressed in a black leather coat and stiletto-heeled boots, her high-fashion appearances alone caused her to stand out from the rest of the estate's residents. Sunglasses concealed her eyes, which at that moment also hid the tears that were welling uncontrollably in them. She raised a hand to discreetly wipe the tears away before they could fall, then she took a deep breath to calm herself.

It was strange that she could still cry over the memory of a man she hadn't seen in almost ten years. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment as she recalled that last meeting. It occurred in a situation not at all different from this one…

"_Alana?"_

_For some reason, she managed to recognize him from his voice alone. Not bothering to turn around and face him, she kept her eyes rigidly set on the newly lain headstone before her. She had tried to avoid this man throughout the entire ceremony, but she should have known that he wouldn't let the day pass without having a word with her._

_Though she refused speak or even look at him, he didn't leave her side. She could sense his eyes on her back, as he sat there quietly, just waiting that the patient that was so characteristic of him. Finally, she decided to just say something, if only to get him to finally leave her alone. _

"_It's good you were able to get some time off your busy schedule to come and see him," she said, the coldness sharp in her voice. "He would have appreciated it. He always did."_

"_Of course. I came to pay my last respects to Kevin, but also to see how you are doing."_

_Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her fists to curb her temper. "I'm doing fine," she muttered._

_She sensed him move his wheelchair a bit closer to her. "I'm still your godfather, Alana. I always told your father that I would help take care of you, and I will not break that promise." _

"_I said I'm fine," she repeated, emphasizing the last word heavily. "I've got just one more year left before I can finally move out of the house anyway. From then on I can take care of myself."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes," she snapped, finally turning around to face him. Their eyes met almost instantly. His gaze was calm and reassuring as always, but the pain had hardened her heart too much to be touched by his kindness._

_Charles sighed and leaned his chin on his clasped hands. "I shall be frank with you Alana," he said slowly. "I came because I wanted to extend an invitation to you. I thought perhaps you'd be interested in coming to live with me…at my school."_

_Alana raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I would want to?" _

_A sad smile came to Charles' face. "I remember well that you did before," he said quietly. _

"_That was before," Alana shot back. "A lot has changed since then. More than you'll ever know or realize."_

_She turned her back on him again to face her father's grave. "Besides, you're forgetting something, remember?" she said, her tone dripping with disdain. "I'm not _qualified_ to go to your school." _

"_That was never for certain, Alana. Things change, as you said yourself." _

_She let out a scornful laugh. "Well, sorry to disappoint you Uncle Chuck, but you were wrong, and you still are. I'm NOT a mutant." _

_There was another long silence. For a moment, Alana thought that maybe he was finally going to leave her be. Then suddenly, she felt an odd sensation, as though she had gone light-headed, and her temples were starting to throb. She whirled around, eyes widening with panic and anger. _

"_Stop looking at me like that!" she yelled. "I know what you're trying to do; you're trying to stoop around in here!" She touched the side of her head. "Don't you dare try to invade my mind! You don't have the right!"_

_Charles returned her heated glare evenly. "Then please, just tell me the truth. What is it that you're hiding from me?"_

"_When are you ever going to just give up?" she cried, the tears now slipping down her cheeks uncontrollably. "You've already ruined everything with your stupid mutant-hunting obsession! Why can't you just leave me out of it?" Her chest started to heave as she sobbed, releasing years of pent-up anger. "If you had just stopped pointing your finger at me years ago, then maybe Mom and Dad would still be together! It's _your_ fault that Daddy was taken away from me, and it's_ your_ fault that he died alone!"_

_The look that came to her godfather's face managed to strike her with guilt, but she was too caught up in her own feelings to care about his. Her chin trembled uncontrollably, but she forced out the last thing she had left to say to him. _

"_I don't need you anymore, Uncle Chuck. Just…just leave me alone." _

"Alana?"

Ororo Munroe had come up behind her, pulling her out of her flashback. She turned to face the school's headmistress and saw a new face standing next to her.

"This is Warren Worthington," Ororo introduced the young man. "He's a member of our faculty, and if you're ready, he's going to show you to your room now."

"Oh," Alana said, forcing a stiff smile on her face. "Nice to meet you," she told Warren, shaking his hand briefly.

"Dr. McCoy and I will get right to work on your medical tests and records," Ororo went on, as the three of them began to walk back to the mansion. "In the meantime, Warren here will help you get settled and show you around the house. Classes are over now, but we'll see you again later at dinner time, all right?"

"Sure," Alana said. "That sounds okay."

Ororo smiled. "Great," she said. "I'll leave you in Warren's capable hands then. Welcome to the Institute, Alana."

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"Here we are," Warren said, stopping at a door at the end of the long stretch of hallway. He opened the door and stepped aside to allow her first entry.

Alana slipped off her sunglasses as she walked into her new living quarters. It was an average-sized room and was sparsely decorated, but better furnished than she had imagined. There was a double bed, dresser, closet, study table, an arm chair, and even a large mahogany bookshelf. All her luggage was already there waiting for her.

"We're given the freedom to decorate our rooms any way we want," Warren explained, still standing at the doorway. "As long as we remember this is a school with young kids, so none of the objectionable stuff, if you know what I mean."

Alana nodded. "Yeah, I think I got you. This will do fine, thanks."

She walked over to the bed and sat down on it. Fishing into her purse, she pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Uh, smoking isn't allowed inside the mansion," Warren said quickly, before she could light a stick. "If you really need to, you're gonna have to do it outside. Storm's very strict on that house rule."

Alana's eyebrows rose. "Storm?"

"I mean Ororo," Warren corrected himself. "A lot of us call her by that name. You can too, if you like."

"Right…"Alana said slowly. She sighed and rolled her eyes before putting her cigarettes away.

If took some effort for Warren to keep the smile fixed on his face. "If you want, I can show you the way to the nearest veranda, you can smoke there too…"

Alana shook her head, cutting him off. "That's okay," she said, leaning over to pull off her boots. "I'm just kind of tired, so I'll just stay put for now. Been a long day, you know?"

"Okay, then…" Warren said, feeling a little uncomfortable as she started to stretch out on her bed. He held the doorknob and started to back out of the room. "Well, if you need anything else, just…"

"Hang on," Alana said, sitting back up. "Don't leave just yet. Let's talk."

"What about?" Warren asked warily.

"Well...I was just curious," Alana said. "What's your story? You seem like a nice, normal-enough looking guy. What brought you in to this place?"

"I brought myself in," Warren answered. "Because this is where I belong."

Alana smirked. "Really…the son of Warren Worthington, maker of the miraculous mutant cure. Living _here_? That's just too ironic." She swung her legs back over to the side of the bed. "What's the matter? Your Dad's medication didn't work on you either?"

Warren frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I risked getting my ass busted by the press just so I could take some of your father's so-called miracle cure," Alana said bitterly, looking down at her feet. "But obviously, it had no effect on me. Instead it made me stupid enough to let my guard down, so NOW I got busted."

She shook her head and glanced back up at Warren. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," Warren answered stiffly. "I never took the cure."

"No way!" Alana exclaimed. "You never even tried it? Why not?"

"I try to stay out of my father's affairs," Warren said wryly. "He and I don't really see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. Besides, I never had an interest in his so-called cure. We're not sick. We're mutants."

"Huh," Alana muttered.

Warren crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't agree with that?"

Alana started back at him evenly. "Let's just put it this way…once your father's lab comes up with a stronger and better cure, I'll be one of the first in line to take the shot."

With that, she lay back in her bed. "Anyway, thanks for your help, Warren. I'll be fine from here. If you don't mind, I'm just gonna need some time alone to settle and rest up."

"Sure," Warren said. "I'll just come back for you in time for dinner. That's at seven."

"Fine…"she answered, having already turned her back on him before he could finish his sentence. She waited for a few seconds until she heard him close the door and walk back down the hall. When she was certain he was gone, she took out her cigarettes again and lit a stick. She exhaled deeply, blowing out a cloud of smoke. She walked over to the window and peered outside through the curtains.

The basketball court was clearly visible from there, and for a minute Alana stood watching as a group of kids played their game. Most of them were in their late teens, but a few couldn't have been older than eleven or twelve. These kids reminded her of a little girl she knew from long ago…but that girl was gone now, and so was the man who had once said she might someday come to live in that very house with him.

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**To be continued…**


	3. Bitches and Booze

**CHAPTER TWO – Bitches and Booze**

Knocks on the door caused Storm to look up from the documents that were strewn all over the surface of her work desk.

"Come in," she called, taking one last glance at the papers before gathering them up and slipping them back into their proper file. She smiled at the small group of people that lingered at her office doorway.

"Well, don't just stand there you guys, I said come in!" she said, waving her hand. "Logan's just doing his rounds to make sure the kids are getting ready for bed. Hank's still busy at the lab, but he'll be joining us within the hour."

"Busy doing what?" Marie asked, as she and Bobby sat down on the sofa. Peter and Kitty settled into the arm chairs opposite them.

Storm walked over from her desk to sit in front of the fireplace with them. "He's just finishing the analysis of those test results we took of Alana Stratford."

"Oh," Kitty said, throwing a meaningful look at Marie. "Did anything interesting come up?"

Storm smiled. "Well, she's a mutant, that's for sure," she said. "And she's telekinetic, just like she told us."

"Do I sense a 'but' coming on?" Bobby said wryly.

Storm sighed. "_But_…we all know telekinetic abilities could reach far and mean a lot of other things," she said pointedly. "We have yet to find out how strong her gifts are, and what's she's really capable of."

"So what's the deal? Logan said she's been sent here on court orders," Kitty said. "She's just here to learn how to handle her powers, right?"

"That's right," Storm nodded. "The courts ruled that she has to stay here and train with us until we give her clearance to leave. Meaning, we should be able to certify that she's in full control of her abilities and won't be a danger to herself or anybody."

"In other words, they've turned us into some kind of mutant rehab center," Bobby said with a grin. "Nice."

"If you want to look at it that way," Storm said. "But as always, we're just here to give guidance to any mutant who needs it. Especially this one."

"Oh come on, is she really that special?" Bobby said, raising his eyebrow. "Why, because she's some supermodel celebrity?"

"No," Storm replied calmly. "Because she's the Professor's goddaughter."

"What!" The room erupted in simultaneous exclamations.

"Goddaughter _and_ niece," Storm added. "Her father, Kevin Stratford, was Professor Xavier's first cousin."

"Whoa…" Marie breathed. "Logan didn't mention _that_ part!"

"Who'd have thought?" Kitty said, shaking her head. "The first mutant we've heard of who's actually related to the Professor."

"Blood-related," Peter pointed out.

Bobby frowned, looking genuinely concerned for the first time that day. "So what does that mean?" he asked. "Are we actually expecting her powers to be somewhere in the same level as the Professor's?"

"That would be stretching things quite a bit," Storm said. "But who knows, right? What matters now is that she's come to us, and I feel it's important that we help her understand and embrace her powers as soon as possible. We don't want her getting herself into more trouble than she's already in."

Bobby snorted. "_IF_ we can get her to listen to anything we say, that is," he said, shaking his head. "I mean come on, Storm. She's a model! She's already loaded with attitude problems even without the stress of being a mutant."

Kitty rolled her eyes. "That is so typically judgmental of you."

"I think what Bobby's trying to say is," Marie jumped in quickly to her boyfriend's defense. "Alana's older than most of us. She's not going to be so willing to take our orders. I mean you've got to admit, she does seem pretty spoiled. She didn't even come down to eat dinner with us on her first night!"

"Maybe she really was just tired," Peter pointed out. "Wasn't that what she told Warren?"

"Speak of the devil," Storm said suddenly. "Or I should say, angel."

They all looked up towards the doorway. Sure enough, Warren was standing there, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry I'm late. Some of the kids stopped me to ask questions about today's lesson." he explained as we walked into the room and joined them. "And Storm, I went to check on Alana. Her room was locked, and she wouldn't answer when I knocked. But that's okay, I'm pretty sure she just fell asleep. Might be best not to wake her."

Storm sighed. "Then that's all right I guess," she said. "Thanks, Warren."

"So what did I miss?" Warren asked, looking around their small circle.

"We were just discussing Alana's situation," Storm told him. "About what we can expect from her stay here with us."

"Ah…" Warren said slowly, his brow furrowing in a slight cringe.

"That bad eh?" Bobby chuckled.

Warren scratched his head. "Don't get me wrong," he said. "I'm sure she's a nice enough person in her own way, but for now I can tell you, she's going to be a pretty tough one to deal with. She hates being a mutant, and I'm pretty sure she's not too thrilled about being sent here either."

Storm sighed. "All right, I'll admit," she said. "So she's a little problematic. We might have a hard time getting through her negative attitude." Then she smiled at her former students. "But we were able to get through to all of you, right? I don't how she could be _too_ different."

"Hey Storm?"

It was Logan who had arrived this time, but he did not come into the room immediately as Warren had.

"Just thought you should know," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb. "I saw a Porsche being driven out of the grounds just a minute ago. Now, either one of the kids has finally learned to hotwire, or Ms. Cover Girl isn't as tired as she said she was, after all."

"Oh no," Storm moaned, shaking her head. "Tsk. I should have known." She sighed and hid her face in her hands for a moment, before looking up at Logan again. "Could you just go after her, please? Logan?"

Logan smirked. "I figured you'd say that," he said, turning to leave. "Don't worry. I'll bring the Princess back in for you," he called as he walked down the hall. "And as a bonus I'll throw in a complimentary sermon on observing the house curfew."

There was a brief silence after Logan's departure. Finally, Bobby leaned closer to Storm, scratching his chin.

"So…are we _sure_ she's the Professor's niece?"

* * *

Alana frowned and wrinkled her nose in slight distaste as she searched for a table at the far end of the diner she had ended up going to. This place, which obviously doubled as a bar at night, was practically biker haven, a far cry from the VIP clubs she usually went to. But at the moment, she was just too hungry to care about class or ambience. She just needed to get a hot meal and a few drinks in her stomach.

Ignoring the many stares that followed her as she passed, she found herself a table and quickly ordered the most edible thing she could find on the menu. As she waited for her food to arrive, she pulled out her cell phone and checked for any messages or calls she might have missed. There were none.

Alana bit her lip in hesitation, debating with herself for a few moments before finally punching numbers on the keypad. She held the phone to her ear and waited, but no one picked up at the other end. Tears welled in her eyes as she finally gave up and put her phone away. What else did she expect? David made it clear long ago how he felt about mutants. She should just accept it once and for all that it was over between them. He was never going to take her back.

When her order came, Alana ate quickly, keeping her head down and mentally willing away the goons who kept glancing over in her direction.

"Anything else I can get you?" the waitress asked, as she came to collect her empty plate.

"What sort of drinks do you carry here?"

The woman smirked. "None of the sort you big city girls like, that's for sure."

"Great," Alana said sarcastically. "Just get me a nice fat beer then."

"Make that two."

Alana looked up with a start. A tall guy sporting a leather jacket and a very strange haircut was now sitting across the table from her.

"Excuse me?" she said icily. "Who are—"

"You see that fat bozo sitting over there?" the man interrupted, nodding his head in the direction of the bar. "He was just about to lumber over here and take this seat himself before I beat him to it. I think you owe me at least a thank you."

"Hey…" Alana said slowly, suddenly recognizing him. "You're one of the teachers from the Institute!" She snapped her fingers. "Logan, isn't it?"

When the man nodded his head in confirmation, her eyes narrowed in accusation. "Wait. Did you _follow_ me here!"

"Again, no need to thank me," Logan said with a careless wave of his hand. "Just doing my job."

Alana raised her eyebrow at him. "So what? Are you actually here to bring me home?" she asked scornfully. "What am I, in high school?"

"No," Logan retorted. "But you _are_ in a school that observes a strict set of rules. And those rules include eating dinner with the rest of the student body _and_ a ten o' clock curfew."

She let out a derisive laugh. "A curfew?" she repeated. "I'm well over twenty-one, and you're still going impose that one on me? You've got to be kidding."

Logan leaned across the table towards her. "And that just proves you don't know me very well," he told her with a smirk. "I don't _have _a sense of humor."

He leaned back again as the waitress arrived to set two bottles of beer on their table. "Look," he said, picking up his bottle and pulling it towards him. "We're going to cut you some slack since it's your first night. But from now on, you go by the rules just like all the rest of the kids, got it? If you're gonna be a student at Xavier's, then you've gotta act like one."

Alana sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine," she muttered. Grabbing her own beer bottle, she took a deep swig.

Logan looked at her in mild amusement. "I thought you model-girls always stayed away from this kind of stuff," he said. "Isn't it one of those poisons that could end up ruining your career?"

"Yeah?" Alana said bitterly. "Well then, no loss for me there. It's not like I've still got a career to take care of anymore."

"So you decided to just sneak out, drive all the way here, and booze all your curves away?" Logan said.

Alana slammed the bottle back down angrily. "What is the big deal!" she exclaimed. "I just felt like getting out of that stuffy old place, okay? Just a couple of hours in the outside world to get a couple of lousy drinks. God, is that such a crime!"

She fished into her purse and dumped a few bills on the table before pushing back her chair, scraping the floor loudly in the process. Without giving Logan another glance, she stormed toward the diner exit.

"Hey sexy," the fat guy at the bar had suddenly blocked her way. "What's the rush? Stay a while and have another drink on me."

"Not in your life, loser!" Alana snapped. "Or better yet, why don't you crawl back into your hole and try to look for one?"

"Whoa!" the man laughed, glancing back at his buddies back at the bar. "Look at her, guys! She's not just hot, she's one helluvah bitch too!" His friends started hooting in drunken approval. "Our kinda girl!"

"Hey!" Alana yelled, struggling wildly as the man suddenly grabbed her arm. "Don't touch me, you sick bastard! I'm warning you!"

"The lady's already had a long night, Bub." Logan said, coming up behind them. "You'd better just leave her alone."

"Why don't you make me, punk!" the fat biker sneered.

"Because I don't like hurting big stupid animals," Logan told him with a smirk.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" the biker growled, releasing Alana's arm to face Logan.

"Oh, who am I kidding? I _hate_ big stupid animals."

Logan's fist shot out to strike the man evenly on the nose, breaking it with a satisfying crack. The biker howled, clutching his face as blood started streaming down his nostrils. He swung out blindly at Logan, who swiftly grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully behind his back. Within a second Logan had pinned him face down on the floor, his boot pressing down painfully on the guy's neck.

"I'm guessing no one else wants some of this?" Logan growled, glaring at the rest of the goons at the bar. When no one made a move to help their pal, he removed his foot and took Alana by the arm. "So maybe you're not all as stupid as you look."

"Are you all right?" he asked, when they had both stepped out of the diner. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No,' Alana snapped back, pulling her arm from his grasp. "I'm _fine_."

"You know, you've GOT to be the most ungrateful kid I've ever, _ever_ met." Logan said, shaking his head. "And I thought I've already seen them all."

"I could have handled it back there," she said coldly. "I didn't _need_ your help."

Logan crossed his arms over his chest and started down at her. "Oh, really?"

"Really," she shot back. "I've done it before. Except this time, these powers could have actually been put to their best use in shoving that jerk in his place."

"Hah," Logan scoffed. "Well then, take lesson one from me, kid. Using your powers to win a bar brawl is like flaunting the fact that you're a mutant. I thought you of all people would want to avoid that kind of exposure."

"Well too late," Alana retorted. "I already got it. So why should I bother hiding anything?"

With that, she stormed over to her car and got inside, not saying another word or giving the X-Man another glance. Tires screeched as she pulled out into road and spend away, leaving Logan standing alone but shaking his head in amusement.

"Damn…" he muttered, breaking into another smirk. "She _IS_ a bitch."

**To be continued…**


	4. More Than Human

**Author's Note: **_To "Hiya"_: It's all right with me that you write and post your fic. We may have the same idea for our OC, but that doesn't mean we'll come up with the same story, right? However, it could be a good idea that we not read each other's works to prevent our plotlines from crossing, even unintentionally.

And regarding the pairings, whether Alana will end up with Logan or with Warren, we still have to see. _To apocalypse90_, don't worry, I promise I will decide based on what I think is best. However, I'm just saying that readers' comments do affect the way I form the plot in my head.

I'm rather disappointed that this story hasn't had many reviews so far. The thing is I usually I end up losing drive and discontinuing my stories when it doesn't receive encouragement in the form of reviews. So if you're reading this, please do review if you have the time and want to keep this fic going! Thanks!

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE – More Than Human**

"Alana?"

She looked up briefly from the large suitcase she had just opened and laid out on the floor. With a small sigh, she returned to pulling out clothes from her bag and just called out to the person who had knocked on her door.

"Yeah, come in."

There was a slight rattling sound followed by a pause. "Uh…the door's locked."

She looked up again, this time turning her gaze directly to the doorknob. Squinting her eyes, she concentrated on its simple lock. It clicked open in a second, and a handsome blonde head poked through the door.

Warren looked confused for a moment before he remembered what Alana's powers made her capable of. He pushed the door open a little wider and ventured a step into the bedroom, but this still didn't get the young woman to pay him more attention.

He cleared his throat. "There's a guy named David Masters downstairs. He says he came by to drop off some of your stuff."

That got Alana scrambling up to her feet in a hurry. "David?" she exclaimed, eyes widening with what seemed like a mix of excitement and fear. "He's here?"

Warren nodded. "He's unloading the stuff out of his car right now."

"I'll be right down," Alana said quickly. Her hands flew to her hair as she made a beeline towards the bathroom. "I just…have to fix myself up a little. Could you just keep him company for a while? Tell him I'll be just a minute!"

She didn't even bother to glance back and check if Warren was indeed following her hasty orders. Rushing in front of her bathroom mirror, she quickly ran a brush through her hair, did a quick retouch of her lipstick, and dabbed on some perfume.

About five minutes later, she got to the main foyer of the mansion, slightly breathless but face shining with anticipation. Her expression fell almost instantly however, when she saw only Warren standing there next to couple of large cardboard boxes.

"He said he had somewhere else to be and couldn't wait," Warren explained. "I'm sorry."

She didn't know how long she stood rooted in place in dumb silence before she finally caught a hold of herself. Tears of hurt and disappointment welled in her eyes, but she fought against them and instead took a deep, calming breath.

"Doesn't matter," she said, her voice stiff with forced control. She strode over to the boxes and, with some effort, heaved the first one into her arms.

"I'll help you bring these up," Warren volunteered quickly. He went to her and gently relieved her of the heavy load. "Why don't you take the other one? It's much lighter."

Alana opened her mouth as though she meant to refuse, but then seemed to upset to argue. She simply sighed and did as he suggested.

They walked in silence all the way back to her bedroom. When they had set the boxes down on the floor, Warren watched as Alana immediately went back to her unpacking, this time with renewed fury.

"You know, I've got nothing else to do at the moment," he said quietly, as Alana tugged wrathfully at the heavy packing tape that sealed one of the boxes. "I could just…"

"No thanks," Alana cut him off almost instantly. "I sure I can handle it from here." She finally managed to rip open the box and started sorting through its contents. "I'm going to be throwing out most of this stuff, anyway."

Finally giving up, Warren turned and slowly walked to the door. At the doorway he glanced over his shoulder and saw Alana carelessly throwing aside an assortment of items that she dug out from the box. Books, picture frames, stuffed animals…things that he could only assume connected her to that guy, David.

He stepped out into the hall and was just about to close the door behind him when suddenly he heard a loud sob. He turned around once again, this time to see Alana sitting on the floor, her head lowered into her hands in defeat. Her back shuddered as she struggled to control her tears, but this effort only led to heavier, ragged sobs.

Immediately Warren reentered the room and walked slowly towards her, but still keeping a respectful distance away. "Hey…are you okay?"

He was surprised when Alana actually responded quickly, though in the form of another question. "Why does it have to be like this?" she burst out, throwing down the frame that she held in her hands. "I worked so hard to get everything I ever wanted or needed. I was happy! And now it's just gone, all of it!"

She lifted her head from her hands and looked up at Warren. "I know I haven't been the greatest or nicest person," she said. "But I don't think I ever did anything to deserve this."

Warren sat down on the floor so he could be at level with her. "Deserve what?"

"This!" Alana blurted out, throwing up her hands. "To have my career destroyed. To be confined to this place." She closed her eyes and raised a hand back to her face. "To have people look at me as if I were some kind of freak!"

"But that's exactly why you're here," Warren told her gently. "So you could be with people who will understand you and help you understand yourself."

He reached over and placed a hand on her knee. "And hey…you are _not_ a freak," he told her firmly. "You're no less human than any person out there. You're just more."

At that Alana fell silent. Warren waited patiently as her tears ceased, and she composed herself enough to look at him again.

"It sounds like you've really grown to accept it," Alana told him. "The fact that you're a mutant."

"Trust me, I've had a _lot_ of time to get used to the idea," Warren said. "Besides, I told you, that's what being in this school does. In time, it will help you to adjust too…if you let it."

There was another silent pause. Suddenly for the first time since she came to the school, Alana smiled, surprising Warren. For the first time he noticed how truly beautiful she was without the sullen, scowling expression on her face.

"Thanks," she said softly.

They held each other's gazes for a moment before Warren broke contact and got to his feet. "Well," he said. "I guess I should let you get back to unpacking then."

"Wait," Alana said, rising from the floor as well. "You never told me what _your_ powers were." She hesitated. "Can you…do you think you could show me?"

Warren stared at her. "Why?" he asked. "I mean, are you sure?"

"Like you said, maybe it would make me feel better to see and know that I'm not alone," Alana said quietly. "That I'm not the only one who's different."

She crossed her arms and looked down at her feet. "Only if it's okay with you, of course." Another smile played at the corners of her lips. "Your powers aren't something out of control and potentially dangerous are they?"

Warren shook his head and smiled. "No, nothing like that" he assured her. "Well…if you really want to see it, then okay."

Slowly, he removed his jacket, conscious of the fact that Alana was watching him very intently. He reached behind his back and undid the clasp that held his harness together. He flexed his arms and arched his back, causing his wings to unfurl and stretch out slowly on either side of him.

Alana gasped, her eyes widening with awe. Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly raised her hand to cover it.

Warren smiled shyly and flapped his wings slightly to show her that they were indeed real. "Nothing really dangerous about them, is there?"

"They're…beautiful!" Alana whispered. She ventured a few steps forward with her hand stretched out, before she hesitated and drew it back quickly.

"It's okay," Warren assured her. "You can touch it if you want. I can't hurt you any more than you can hurt me."

He felt her fingers trembling as she ran them over the smooth, white feathers of his left wing. At last, she stepped back and smiled up at him. "You look like an angel."

Warren grinned. "Yeah, a lot of the students have taken to calling me that," he admitted. "Not the best nickname in the world for a guy, but I guess it's the best fit."

"And I guess I'm starting to see your point," Alana said. "About being more than human. I mean, you _do _look different, but I still don't think I could call you a freak."

"Then you understand that it's all just a matter of how you look at things," Warren told her. "As always. Basic principle of life."

He flexed his shoulders once again, and his wings folded easily behind his back. He picked up the harness and his jacket then faced Alana.

"Well, I guess I should let you get back to unpacking now," he said. "Unless there's something else you want me to help you with."

Alana shook her head. "I'll be fine," she said. "You've done a lot already." She turned her back on him, but then added, "Thanks, Warren."

Warren smiled, watching her back for a moment longer before stepping out of the room. "Anytime."

* * *

It was well past midnight, but for some reason, Peter was having difficulty falling asleep. After nearly an hour of lying awake in bed, he got back up and decided to see if a glass of warm milk would help. He made his way downstairs as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake anybody up. He arrived at the mansion's kitchen and was slightly surprised to see that someone else was apparently having the same problem as he.

Kitty was sitting on a stool at the center island with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk set out on the counter. Her head was bowed as she read from a book that lay open before her. As usual, she was too absorbed in her reading to realize that someone else had come into the room.

Peter smiled and watched her from the doorway, silently observing for a few moments before finally walking in and making his presence known.

"Hey," he called out softly.

The girl gasped out loud and looked up with a start. "Oh geez, Peter! You scared me!" she exclaimed.

She closed her book as he came over and pulled up a seat next to her. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "Maybe I just got too wound up shooting hoops with Bobby after dinner. What about you? What's your excuse?"

Kitty grinned. "The thrill of tomorrow's science lesson I guess," she said, holding up her textbook. "But don't you _dare_ tell anyone what a huge dork I've become."

Peter chuckled and shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it," he promised. He got up from his chair and walked over to fridge to get some milk. "How did your class go today anyway?"

"Pretty good, I guess." Kitty sighed. "Some of the younger kids are quite a handful, though. I don't remember being that much trouble when I was their age, do you?"

"Hard to say," Peter said with a grin. "I was already seventeen when I started my first year here, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Kitty retorted "You're one of the oldies."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Hey, I'm not one who's lying awake in the middle of the night worrying about lesson plans," he teased. "_You're_ the oldie!"

"Mean!" Kitty exclaimed, punching him hard on the arm.

"Ouch!" Peter rubbed the spot that she had struck and faked a pained expression. "Hey, that hurt!"

"Good!" Kitty said with a grin. She lifted her fist and punched him again. "Take that! And that!"

Peter laughed as she started raining blows on his arm. "Hey, stop it!"

"Take it back first!" Kitty ordered. "And say I'm not an oldie!"

"Fine, fine!" Peter conceded. "You're _not_ an oldie."

He grabbed her fist to keep it from hitting him again. "You're Kitty Pryde, and you're just a girl." He smiled. "The smartest, cutest, and sweetest girl I've ever known."

Kitty froze as she suddenly found herself staring into Peter's green-grey eyes, her mind racing to register his words.

…_he just said I'm cute! And sweet…but he also said I'm just a girl…I'm JUST a GIRL…_

Then, she realized that Peter was still holding her fist in his hand, his hands strangely gentle for one so big and strong. Her first instinct was to phase her hand free of his grasp, but something in the back of her mind told her not to, and just enjoy the warm, tingly feeling his touch gave her.

"Oh…excuse me…"

The voice caused them both to look up with a start. Alana was standing at the kitchen doorway, looking at them hesitantly. Peter immediately released Kitty's hand.

"I just wanted to get a glass of water," she said. "I'm sorry if I've interrupted anything."

"No," Kitty said quickly. "Go ahead. We keep the glasses over there."

"Thanks," Alana said, walking towards the cabinet Kitty pointed to. There was an awkward silence in the room as Alana took out a glass and poured herself some water out of the tap.

"So…"Alana finally said, after she took a sip. "It's Kitty right? And Peter." She smiled when the two nodded. "You guys seem to be pretty young to be teachers. How long have you been working here?"

"Actually, we were students here just last year," Kitty explained. "We've already graduated, and now it's our turn to help out with the younger kids."

"I see…" Alana said. She sighed. "I have to tell you, it just feels really strange being in back a school surrounded by children half my age. And I'm supposed to be a student just like the rest of them."

"Well, technically you're not a real student," Kitty said. "You're just here to learn more about your powers, that's all."

"Right…" Alana said, pausing to take another sip of water. "I still don't understand how it's supposed to work, though. I mean, who's going to teach me? Is there anyone else in this school with powers just like mine?"

Kitty and Peter glanced at each other uncomfortably before Peter answered. "Well…there used to be…but she's not with us anymore…"

"Storm's going to be the one to teach you of course," Kitty spoke up quickly. "She's taught a lot of us, and for sure she can help you too."

"So I've been told," Alana said. She quickly rinsed out her glass and dried it with a dishtowel. "Ororo told me I'll be starting my first session with her tomorrow. Here's hoping _something_ comes out of it."

She returned the glass inside the cabinet. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow I guess," she said, heading for the door. "Good night."

"'Night," Peter and Kitty echoed, and she was gone.

Kitty sighed. "Well…" she said, propping her chin on her hand. "At least her attitude seems to be showing _some_ improvement."

Peter smiled. "She just needs time," he said. "We all did."

He finished the last of his milk and went to the sink to wash his glass. "And you were right, as usual." he said. "Alana's really a beautiful woman. I'm sure Bobby's already eaten all that stuff he's said about her."

When he was done cleaning up, he turned back to Kitty. "I just hope Storm could really help her get a handle on things," he said.

"Right," Kitty said, her heart sinking at the sight of that smile.

"Well, I guess I should try and get some sleep," Peter went on. "I've got class first thing tomorrow. What about you?"

"Oh, you go ahead then," Kitty said with a weak smile. "I'll be up in a while too, as soon as I finish a few more pages."

"All right," Peter said. He reached over and tousled her hair gently. "But don't stay up too late, young lady." He chuckled. "Good night then."

"Yeah…"Kitty said, watching him as he left the kitchen until he disappeared from view. She sighed and started to clear the counter. "Good night, Pete."

**To be continued…**


	5. Princess Cover Girl

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! They're a great source of inspiration, so please keep them coming!

Oh, and much thanks to those who commented on my OC, Alana. I'm really glad she seems to meet your approval. I _am _making an effort to keep her as human and real as possible.

**

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**CHAPTER FOUR – Princess Cover Girl **

A soft hissing sound signaled the arrival of another person at the X-Mansion's subbasement training room. Storm looked up from the clipboard she held her hands in time to see Logan walk through the door. As usual, the man had a half-interested expression on his face, as though he was just wandering about the house trying to find something worthwhile to do.

Logan's attention was immediately directed towards the main activity going on in the room. It would have been an extremely strange sight to an outsider who didn't know what the school is all about. At the center of the large, virtually empty room stood Alana Stratford, with her right arm held outstretched in front of her. She was pointing her hand in the direction of Peter Rasputin, who at that moment, was morphed in his steel form and floating in the air about five feet off the ground.

"That's pretty good," Logan admitted, crossing his arms as he stood next to Storm, who was monitoring the exercise purposefully.

Storm shook her head. "It's not just pretty good, she's entirely advanced!" she whispered back. "Over the past hour we've already gone through tests for strength, coordination, and accuracy."

"And," Logan prompted, leaning over to peer at the sheet of paper on Storm's clipboard. "How'd she do?"

"She can lift Peter's armored weight—500 pounds—up to a height of five feet," Storm began, reading from her notes. "She can juggle ten 5-pound weights in a perfect circle. And her accuracy in target shooting is about ninety-five percent."

She looked up from notes and gave Logan a meaningful look. "Not bad for a new mutant who claims she's never had much practice in the use of her powers."

"She _claims_," Logan repeated, stressing the word with a smirk. "Are we really going to give our trust to Princess Cover Girl that easily?"

Storm sighed. "We have no choice but to take her word for it," she said. "But if what she says IS true, Logan, then this is just the beginning stage of her mutant development. She's still going to learn and grow. Who knows what more she'll be capable of in the future, given enough time to progress?"

Logan shrugged carelessly. "Then we just have to make sure she's also taught to use her powers responsibly."

Storm grinned. "You know, that has got to be the most uncharacteristic thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth," she told him, poking his arm with her pen.

Logan held up his hands. "Hey, at least _my_ mutation is stable," he retorted. "You know exactly what to expect from my powers."

"As for her," he went on, nodding in Alana's direction. "If she's got as much potential as you think she does, then we're definitely going to have to keep a close eye on her."

The conversation between the two instructors was interrupted by the sound of Peter falling back on the ground with a heavy thud. He had managed to land solidly on his feet, but his immense weight caused the floor to vibrate for a few seconds.

Storm quickly checked the time on her stopwatch. "Ten minutes and fifteen seconds," she announced, walking over to Alana and Peter. Alana was bent over, her hands resting on her knees, panting slightly from the exertion of her powers.

"Above average stamina. That's very impressive," Storm said, placing a hand on Alana's shoulder. "Now we just have one last test for your speed and reflexes. Why don't you sit down and rest for a while? Just take your time, and we'll wait till you're ready."

Alana nodded. "All right," she said, straightening herself and raising her hand to wipe a few sweat beads from her forehead. She glanced at Peter and smiled. "Thanks for being my guinea pig."

Peter laughed. "Anytime," he told her sincerely. "You did great."

Logan watched as the pair walked over to a bench at the sidelines and sat down. He then turned back to Storm. "How are you planning to do her speed test?"

"It's good you asked, 'cause I was planning to ask for your help with it," Storm replied with a smile.

She led him to a large crate that stood in the corner and opened it. Logan reached inside and pulled out a bright red dodge ball. He raised his eyebrow at Storm.

"You've _got_ to be kidding."

"It's always been a great game for testing reflexes, and you know it," Storm told him. "You and Peter just throw these at her as fast as you can, and we'll see how well she can use telekinesis to block the shots and defend herself."

As Logan finally conceded and started to take unload the balls from the crate, Kitty came into the room, also curious about the progress of Alana's training.

"Oh, good!" Storm said, waving the girl over. "The more hands the better."

"More hands for what?" Kitty asked. Her gaze drifted over to where Alana and Peter were sitting to together, having a drink of water and laughing as they exchanged stories.

"Just a little dodge ball game to test Alana's telekinetic reflexes," Storm explained, oblivious to the girl's preoccupation. "You up for it?"

Kitty sighed. "Sure," she said, turning away from the sight of Peter and Alana to help Logan with the balls.

A few minutes later, Alana was back in the center of the training room floor. Logan stood at one side of the room, while Kitty and Peter were stationed at the opposite end.

"Use your powers to block the balls and stop them from hitting you," Storm instructed Alana. "If you can, try to make them fly back to the person who threw them. But the main objective is just trying not to get hit."

Alana nodded. "Got it," she said, genuine determination forming on her face.

At Storm's signal, the dodge balls started flying at Alana from both ends of the room. She managed to successfully block most of them, even sending a few smashing back against the walls. Some however, did manage to hit her. One of Logan's balls actually caught her solidly at the side of her head, causing her to lose her balance and crumple to the ground.

Storm immediately rushed over to Alana, followed closely by Peter who helped her sit up, keeping his hand on her back to support her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, brushing her hair aside gently to check for bruises. "That hit pretty hard!"

"I'm fine," Alana insisted, but with a scowl on her face. "I guess he just caught me off-guard."

"Hey, maybe you should ease up a bit, Logan," Peter told the man as he finally came over, with an almost too unconcerned expression on his face. "It's just an exercise, and it's her first day. There's no need to get rough on her."

"Why?" Logan retorted. "It's a _test_ to see how well she can defend herself. We _should_ be pushing it."

"It's okay, Peter. He's right," Alana said, as she slowly got to her feet. She glared at Logan. "Let him push it."

When they had made sure that Alana was really willing and able to continue, the test resumed. It seemed that her fall had strengthened her determination, since not a single ball managed to get near her. When one of Logan's shots came soaring straight at her face again, she flipped her hand at it. The ball immediately shot back in Logan's direction like a bullet, hitting him full force on the forehead. Logan crashed to the ground, stunned by the force of the blow.

Everyone but Alana cried out in surprise. Before anyone could make a move however, Logan had gotten back on his feet. His ferocious glare was directed at Alana, who returned it with an unfaltering stare. The smallest trace of a smug smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

"Why you..." Logan growled, taking a menacing step towards her, fits clenched.

"Why you _what_?" Alana snapped haughtily, placing her hands on her hips. "You told me to _defend_ myself."

"All right! That's enough," Storm said firmly, placing a hand on Logan's chest to keep him from advancing. She looked at Alana. "I think we're finished for the day. You can go clean up and rest now. I'll just see you again here tomorrow, same time?"

"Okay." Alana nodded. "Thanks," she said, offering her instructor a small smile before turning away to immediately leave. No one moved or said another word until the training room doors swished closed behind her.

When Alana was gone, Storm let out a big breath. "Peter, Kitty, could you give Logan and me some privacy please?" she told her former students calmly but firmly. The two nodded and left the room together without any arguments.

"That girl," Logan snarled, before Storm could get a word in. "Is a fu—"

"Logan, stop." Storm ordered, cutting him off. She sighed and shook her head. "I know you don't like Alana, but she's a student. You can't start fights with her every time she acts up and pisses you off."

"Acting up is for _children_," Logan stopped back. "She's a grown woman! It's time she got over her goddamn spoiled self and started acting like one."

"She _will_," Storm said firmly. "She's had a hard life, but I know there's a really good person underneath that entire attitude." She placed a hand on Logan's arm. "She deserves all the chances we can give her. You of all people should understand that."

"Fine," Logan muttered. He shrugged off Storm's hand. "But don't expect me to have _anything_ to do with her training from now on. If she can't even appreciate the help, then there's sure as hell no way I'm going to insist on giving it to her!"

* * *

It was nine o' clock in the evening and most of the kids were already upstairs in their rooms. Excluded from the school's bedtime rule, Alana was enjoying her time alone at the recreation room that evening, curled up in the couch in front of the television. Using her powers to lazily flick the controls and surf from channel to channel, she barely noticed that another person had arrived and was standing behind the sofa.

"Anything good on tonight?"

She looked up with a start, but relaxed upon seeing Warren's face, kind and smiling down at her. "Is there ever? It's just the usual junk we all know and love," she said with a grin. She scooted over to one side of the couch. "Care to join me?"

"Sure," Warren said, taking a seat. "So how did your first day of training go?"

Alana sighed. "Pretty good, I guess," she answered. "Better than I expected at least."

"What did you learn?" Warren asked.

"That dodge ball is hazardous to my health," Alana said with a smirk. She pulled back her hair and turned her face to show him the dark bruise forming at the side of her right eye.

Warren's eyes widened. "What happened!" he exclaimed, reaching out to gently touch the side of her face.

"Logan happened," Alana said with a scowl. "I always got the feeling he didn't like me very much, but I didn't know he actually wanted to take my head off."

Warren frowned. "Well, Logan _can_ go a little overboard on things," he said, shaking his head. "And he's not exactly the most responsible of adults here. But you'll just have to understand and forgive him. I'm sorry."

Alana grinned. "Apologizing for things you had nothing to do with," she said, patting his arm. "You're such a sweetheart." She leaned her head on her hand, turning to face him fully. "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Warren?"

"No," Warren answered unabashedly. "Why do you ask?"

Alana shrugged. "Just seems weird," she said. "A great guy like you…handsome, sweet, smart…"

"Mutant…" Warren put in with a rueful smile. "You missed that one out."

Alana fell silent for a moment. Her gaze fell to her hands. "Yeah," she said softly. She let out a short, bitter laugh. "Stupid me. How could I actually forget?"

At that, it was Warren's turn to be silent. Just by the light of the television screen he could already see that the look of sadness and pain had returned to the young woman's face. His heart went out to her, but he just couldn't think of anything else to say that would make her feel better.

Luckily, Alana decided to just end the conversation and went back to channel surfing. She stopped at a news show, and for a few minutes the two of them watched in silence. Finally, Warren spoke up, hoping to turn up the mood again.

"Hey, why don't we celebrate your first day of training with a special snack?" he suggested with a grin.

He was relieved when Alana smiled in return. "What did you have in mind?" she asked.

"Give me a minute." Warren told her, then got up and left the room. A quick while later, he returned carrying two bowls of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Alana's eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight.

"You read my mind!" she exclaimed, as Warren handed her one pint and a spoon. "And here I was suffering such a craving!"

"Good," Warren said with a grin. "I thought you might be one of those super weight-conscious girls."

"Hey, I resent that!" Alana said, poking his shoulder playfully. "I have a right to my guilty pleasures too, you know!"

They settled back in the couch to eat their ice cream and continue watching the news, laughing and conversing comfortably the whole time. Then the showbiz news reports came on.

"…_the latest update on American model and cover girl Alana Stratford, who was recently exposed to the public eye as being a mutant. Alana, who became one of the brightest young stars in the fashion industry due to her ground-breaking ad campaigns for Ralph Lauren and her endorsements for leading products such as L'oreal and Maybelline…"_

Alana froze for a moment, the color suddenly draining from her face. Then just as quickly, she dropped her spoon. The volume of the television went up on her mental command, filling the room with the sound of the news announcer's voice…

"…_she is currently residing at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Children, a training facility for mutants, located at Westchester County, just a few miles outside of New York City..." _

Alana gasped, as a video clip of the gates of the X-Mansion flashed across the screen. Powerful camera lens had been used to zoom into a shot of the inner grounds and the house itself, though it did not manage to capture footage of any of the students.

"… _she is reportedly undergoing therapy for her mutant condition…"_

Alana's hands shook as they clutched the pillow on her lap tightly. Even her voice trembled as she spoke. "I…I don't believe it," she whispered. "How…?"

Suddenly, the face of an all-too familiar man came onscreen. Dark and handsome, he spoke to the interviewer with a remorseful expression on his face. The label 'David Masters, Alana's ex-fiancée', flashed at the bottom of the screen.

"…_I wish her all the best, of course. Alana will always be very special to me. I'm just hoping that she can recover from all this and find a way to become normal again, somehow…"_

Alana screamed and threw her hands over her face. Suddenly there was a loud bang as the television exploded, bursting into flames and showing the floor with broken glass and parts.

Warren jumped up quickly and ran to grab the fire extinguisher. Alana just sat in shock as he put out the fire. At the same moment, Logan ran into the room.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, looking from Warren to Alana. He stared at her accusingly. "What do you think you're trying to do?"

"It was an accident, Logan," Warren said, setting down the fire extinguisher. "She got upset and lost control."

Logan crossed his arms. "So are you planning to destroy something every time you feel like 'losing it'?" he sneered at Alana. "We'd better keep you away from all the good furniture then."

Her following reaction to his remark was something he did not expect. Bursting into tears, she jumped up from the sofa and just ran past him out the room.

"What's wrong with you?" Warren said angrily. "Didn't you see that she was already upset? Did you just _have_ to make it worse?"

For a moment, Logan was taken back by surprise. Usually Warren was so quiet and soft spoken. He had _never_ spoken to him with that tone of voice before.

"And do _you_ have to give her special treatment, as if she weren't already so full of herself?" Logan snapped.

Warren's eyes narrowed. "You don't even know her!" he shot back. "You haven't even spent five minutes trying to get to know her."

"Oh, yeah? Well I already know she needs to be taught that everything doesn't revolve around her," Logan said. "And what she _doesn't_ need is another drooling idiot throwing himself at her feet and making her feel like the queen of the world."

Warren stepped forward with a look on his face that almost made Logan think he was meant to pound him. But then, he just spoke, this time with an icy calm in his voice.

"It's not idiotic to show kindness to someone in pain, Logan," he said. "But maybe it's just too difficult for a guy like you to understand that."

With that, Warren picked up the fire extinguisher and started walking out. He paused at the doorway. "If you hate her so much, and can't give her the respect she deserves…then just stay away from her, Logan. It's as easy at that."

Logan glared at Warren's back until it vanished from sight. He stood alone in the darkness, silent for a moment, before leaving the room as well, muttering to the air.

"I don't think so."

**To be continued…**


	6. Class Five

**CHAPTER 5 – Class Five **

The school bell rang, signaling the end of class and the start of lunch break. Peter raised his voice in order to be heard above the sound of his students packing up their sketching materials.

"Remember, your sketches should be completed and submitted before the start of our next session. If you encounter any problems with your work or making the deadline, come see me anytime."

He started gathering up his own things, just pausing to acknowledge the younger kids' goodbyes as they passed by him.

"Great class, Professor Pete."

Peter looked up at the greeting and smiled back at Alana, who at the moment was standing in front of his desk. "I wouldn't be so arrogant as to start calling myself professor," he said, shaking his head. "I'm a guy who's got a knack for drawing, and I'm just lucky Storm agreed to give me this job."

"Aw, you give yourself too little credit," Alana said, as they started to walk out of the lecture room together. "I thought you handled the class great! You definitely know what you're talking about, and the kids seem to really like you."

"Thanks," Peter said shyly. He paused for a moment before adding, "It was nice having you sit in with us today."

"It was time well spent," Alana told him sincerely. "A real learning experience. I gotta admit I know next to nothing about art though, and I can't even draw to save my life."

"That's not true. _Anyone_ can draw," Peter told her. "It's just a matter of having different styles, that's all."

"Anyway," he went on, after pausing to return a passing student's greeting. "Would you like to join Kitty and me for lunch out in the gardens? It's a great day outside. And besides, it's our turn to monitor the kids and make sure they don't get into any trouble."

Alana laughed. "That sounds like a great idea. I'd love to."

After stopping by Peter's room to drop off his teaching materials, the two headed for the dining room to grab their lunches. When they got there, the older students who chose to eat indoors had already taken seats around the two long dining tables. Peter and Alana walked over to the buffet table, where Kitty had just finished filling up her plate from the steaming serving dishes.

"Hey Katya," Peter greeted her with a cheerful smile. "I invited Alana to have lunch with us today. That okay?"

Kitty's gaze darted towards the older woman, and a small smile managed to force itself on her face. "Of course," she murmured. "Why not?"

After Peter and Alana had filled up their plates, the three of them headed out to the garden terrace located just a few meters away from the basketball court, the area where most of the younger students hung out for their one hour lunch break.

"So, how did your bio lecture go?" Peter asked Kitty, as they settled around the large table to begin their meal. "Were the charts I drew up of any use?"

Kitty nodded and smiled. "Loads," she told him. "Thanks again so much. Actually, I hope you wouldn't mind if I used and abused your skills in the future for my other visual aid needs."

Peter shook his head. "Not at all," he said with a grin. "Anything for Ms. Katherine Pryde!"

"Wait," Alana said, then paused to swallow her bite of food. "_You're _teaching biology?" She eyed Kitty dubiously. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Kitty answered. It was now her turn to look wary.

"No way!" Alana laughed. "You're not even eighteen? Wow, you must be one heck of a genius kid."

"Thanks," Kitty muttered. "I guess."

"She teaches computer science too. And math to the younger kids," Peter told Alana. He smiled at Kitty. "Smartest girl I've ever known."

Kitty blushed and ducked her head. "Of course not," she mumbled. "I'll never be able to fill in Jean's shoes."

"Jean?" Alana cast Peter a questioning look.

"Jean Grey. Former biology teacher," Peter explained quietly. "Kitty was asked to take over most of her classes."

Alana was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Wait," she said slowly. "Jean Grey? Ah yes, Storm told me a bit about her. She was a telekinetic too, right?" She sighed. "It's too bad she's not around anymore to help me with my powers."

The uncomfortable silence that followed after her last words made her realize the sensitivity of the topic to her companions.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I should have realized it's too soon…"

Peter smiled at her reassuringly. "It's okay. It's all in the past. We just all still miss her."

The rest of the meal was spent with Alana remaining in comfortable silence while Peter and Kitty continued to exchange stories about their respective classes and students.

"I caught Mark and Andrea making out in the gallery again," Kitty said with a sigh. "I'm gonna ask Storm to have a talk with those two. Thirteen's just a little too young for that kind of action, I think."

"It just sounds like they need a replay of the standard parent-to-child sex talk," Alana pointed out with a grin. "Tell their folks."

Peter looked thoughtful. "But both Mark and Andrea are estranged from their parents." He smiled sadly. "As most of us here are."

"That's why I'm also guessing they've never been _given _the sex talk," Kitty said.

Alana laughed. "Well, there's always sex ed," she said. "So the responsibility is on you guys now. You're the teachers." She smirked. "But hey, you _both _are just kids yourselves. I'm guessing you haven't had much experience in the department either."

"And I'm guessing you've had a little too much?" Kitty snapped back.

At this outburst, Peter turned to her with a look of surprise. But Alana just smiled unaffectedly and shrugged. "Well…I'm not one to brag..."

She reached into the pocket of her suede jacket and pulled out a silver cigarette case. She pulled one stick out and frowned. "Either of you have a light?"

When the two of them shook their heads, Alana sighed and held up the cigarette up to her eyes. Her gaze hardened as she focused on the white tip. Then, much to Peter and Kitty's surprise, the cigarette started smoking as it fired up.

"Yes!" Alana exclaimed triumphantly. She quickly stuck the cigarette between your lips and gave a puff. "I think I'm getting better at that."

"Whoa, wait," Peter said, looking absolutely bewildered. "You're a fire starter? I thought you're just a telekinetic!"

"Have you always been able to do that?" Kitty demanded.

Alana blew out some smoke and frowned. "What's with the interrogation? What's the big deal?" she said, rolling her eyes. "It's just something I learned to do whenever I need a light. It's not as if I've tried setting other things on fire. I'm not an arsonist."

"Alana," Peter said gently. "If you want us to help you control your powers, you're going to have to be honest about them. Does Storm know you're capable of this?"

"Look, after what I did with the television set last night, I'm sure she's already got a pretty good idea of how whacked my powers are," Alana snapped back.

"Hey, we're trying to help _you_!" Kitty retorted. "But first you've got to help yourself."

Alana rolled her eyes. "Oh please." She put out the cigarette and stood up in a huff, grabbing her lunch tray. "I don't need this."

When Alana had walked away, Kitty groaned and hid her face in her hands. "Oh my God, so Logan _was_ right!" she exclaimed. "She is such an insufferable brat!"

Peter frowned at her choice of words. "That's a little harsh don't you think?" he said. "Most new mutants are a little difficult at first. She's just having trouble adjusting to her powers."

"Peter, she just lit a cigarette on mental command," Kitty said, slapping her hand on the table. "I wouldn't really call that someone who's still on the level of _adjusting_."

"Just because she's learned to control one aspect of her power, doesn't mean she doesn't need our understanding or our help."

"The point is she's not telling the truth!" Kitty snapped back. "Who knows what else she could be lying to us about?"

A look of confusion mixed with disappointment came across Peter's face. "Why are you being so hard on her all of a sudden?"

Kitty narrowed her eyes at him. "You know Peter, I _did_ expect that guys would be falling over themselves to worship at Alana's feet," she said icily. "I just never thought you'd be one of them."

She pushed back her chair and rose from the table, tray in her hands. "I guess I've just always given you way too much credit." And she stormed away just as Alana did, leaving a very troubled Peter wondering how such a great day had so suddenly turned sour.

* * *

"Welcome to the club, kid."

Storm sighed and shook her head. "Not helping, Logan."

The school headmistress turned her attention back to Kitty, who had just finished relating her story of what had happened during her lunch with Peter and Alana. A few minutes ago, the girl had barged into Storm's office, walking to the start of her meeting with Hank, Logan, and Warren. Kitty had been distraught over a bit of news on the very person they were just having a serious discussion about.

"That confirms it then," Hank said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. "Alana's powers definitely have a lot of potential for growth, perhaps even more than we earlier suspected."

"What does that mean?" Warren asked. "Are you saying she's got other abilities apart from her telekinesis?"

"No," Hank answered. "It means her telekinesis is of the highest possible degree. She's able to mentally control objects on the sub-molecular level, thus her ability to cause combustion and explosions." He sighed and ran a hand over his bushy blue hair. "Among other things, most likely. Virtually anything that has to do with shifting and shaping the molecular structure of matter."

"Wait a minute," Kitty said, looking troubled. "That kind of power…that sounds just like…"

"Jean?" Storm finished for her.

"No," Logan said suddenly, causing everyone to look his way. His expression was dark and his voice low like a growl. "Not Jean. Phoenix."

There was a long, grim silence in the room before Storm spoke again.

"Look, we're getting way too ahead of ourselves," she said firmly. "Alana is still new to her gift. She barely knows how to harness it, and I doubt she's even fully aware of what she's capable of." She looked around at her fellow teachers. "That's where we're supposed to come in. Now that we know how great her potential is, all the more we have to make sure she learns to appreciate her powers. That she understands the responsibility that comes with using it."

"But how are we supposed to help when she makes things so difficult?" Kitty sighed. "If she's hiding stuff from us, then clearly she doesn't even trust us."

"Her trust has to be earned," Warren put in. "Alana's been through a lot. She's been hurt. And she may not show it, but she's just as confused and scared as any new kid who's walked into this school for the first time."

"New kid my ass," Logan scoffed. "If we keep buying her poor little princess act, she's never going to see or accept the reality of her situation. She's not here on vacation. We keep indulging her, she's going to think she can get away with anything."

"That doesn't mean we should keep biting her head off for every mistake she commits," Warren snapped back. "She was just starting to come along before you turned her away again."

"Well, forgive the rest of the world if it can't kiss ass as well as you can," Logan said with a sneer.

"All right, enough!" Storm ordered, holding up her hands as the two men exchanged heated glares. "It won't get us anywhere if we just keep arguing like this. We all have to implement one common way of handling Alana."

"Now, both Warren and Logan have valid points. I think we should make Alana feel as comfortable and safe here as possible. She has to see us as her friends, people she can trust and confide in. On the other hand, she also has to know that we mean business. We're not here to baby-sit her, but to teach her. We have to make her understand and accept the situation she's in now and how serious it all is."

Storm paused for a moment and smiled when she saw her colleagues nod more or less in agreement. "In time, I'm sure Alana will learn to trust us enough to share whatever other secrets she might still be hiding," she said. "As of the moment, our goal is mainly to win her friendship and trust. From there we can go on a long way."

She stood up from her armchair and walked over to her desk. "As for her training, I've decided to call in reinforcements. We're going to have to bring in a truly qualified teacher to lead and teach Alana. A specialist."

"Another telekinetic?" Hank said curiously. "Who did you have in mind?"

She smiled as she pulled out her Rolodex and started flipping through it. "Someone she'd definitely be able to relate to. In more ways than one."

**To be continued…**


	7. When Reality Strikes

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for all the reviews! Trust me, if it weren't for them, this story would easily fall victim to my writer's block. Constant interest is needed if I'm going to continue writing until the end.

Special thanks to _cateyes-120_ and _Silverwind24_ for their especially inspiring reviews. :-)

I know a lot of people are eager to find out who the mystery teacher is going to be, but I'm going to keep that a secret for now. He/She will come around probably in the eighth chapter still. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. So far I think it's the most interesting one I've written for this story. Hehe.

Please don't forget to leave your reviews!

**

* * *

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**CHAPTER 6 – When Reality Strikes**

Warren raised a hand to adjust the volume on the iPod player strapped onto his bicep, but did not slow down or break his fast, steady stride. It was Saturday, just a few hours after sunrise, and as usual he was out on his daily jog around the vast grounds of the Xavier estate. As he reached the end of the trail that took him past the forested area and out towards the lake, he caught sight of something that made him halt in his tracks.

Three boys were skulking around behind some bushes just a few meters away from the lake shore. They seemed to be ogling at something that was going on at the dock.

Warren's eyebrows rose with suspicion. It was too early on a Saturday morning for students to be out this far in the grounds. And the way these kids kept chucking and nudging each other clearly showed they weren't up to much good. He crept up silently behind the boys and tapped the nearest one on the shoulder. The boy yelped in surprise and spun around instantly.

Warren crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the three guilty faces before him. "Okay, you guys. What's going on?"

"Ahh…nothing sir," Artie Maddicks answered quickly. "We were just out for a walk. And then…well, we just saw…"

Warren sighed and took a few more steps forward, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of what the boys had been gawking at. At first he froze in a moment of astonishment at what he was seeing, but then his face quickly burst out in a grin, and he had to purse his lips to keep from laughing out loud.

Clad in a white bikini, Alana Stratford was stretched out in a large blanket she had spread out on the docks. With her lustrous brown hair fanned out around her head, her face titled gracefully to the sun, and her oiled skin glistening under the heat of the sun, Warren couldn't deny that she did make a stunning sight for any male gaze. He certainly couldn't hold it against these teenage boys for drooling over her.

Forcing a stern expression back on his face, Warren tore his gaze away from the sunbathing model and turned back to his students. "Okay boys, fun's over," he said firmly. "You know better than to watch and ogle at a lady when she thinks she's alone. That's spying! It's an invasion of privacy."

He smiled and shook his head. "Look, I won't tell Storm about this if you just go back into the house and promise never to do this again," he told them. "Okay?"

The three boys muttered their reluctant agreements, casting one last glance at Alana before scuttling off. Warren watched them leave, shaking his head and finally allowing himself a good chuckle. Boys will always be boys.

Feeling obliged to do something before another set of Peeping Toms came along, Warren headed over to the docks to have a word with the source of distraction.

"Hey, you should be a little more careful about your choice of spot," he said lightheartedly, as he came up a few feet away from where Alana was stretched out. "This is a high school, and you're the beautiful older woman all the boys are drooling over. In fact, I just broke up the first batch of your gaping admirers."

Alana grinned and sat up slowly. "So _that _explains those whispering noises I've been hearing," she said, lifting her sunglasses and looking up at the teacher. "Well then, thanks for shooing away the party of evil-minded gawkers for me."

Warren chucked and crouched down so he could be at level with her. "But seriously Alana, I'm sorry I have to disrupt what you're doing, but this really isn't the best place or time to catch up on your tan." He smiled apologetically. "We always have to think of the kids."

Alana pouted. "So you're just saying that I've broken the house rules _again_?" she sighed. "I already set out early in the morning, went as far out into the grounds as I could, wore the most conservative bathing suit I own, and _still_ I've made a mistake?"

"Well…" Warren said, eyeing the sexy bikini she had just deemed conservative. "Yeah…"

Alana rolled her eyes and got to her feet huffily. "I never win," she grumbled. "I'll never be allowed to do _anything_ while I'm in this school, will I?"

Warren winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean…"

Alana shook her head and smiled weakly. "It's okay, Warren," she told him. "I get it. I guess I'll just have to find something else to do today."

"Well, most of the kids go out to the mall and hang out on weekends," Warren pointed out. "I'm pretty sure you can do that too, as long as one of the teachers goes along with you."

Alana smiled. "Why _Professor_ Warren," she said, suddenly coming on coy and flirtatious. "Are you saying _you're_ volunteering to chaperone me?"

Warren's eyes widened. "Uh, well….actually…" He took a step back as Alana advanced on him.

Alana beamed with delight. "Awesome! It's a date then! How does brunch sound? My treat," she said cheerfully.

Before Warren could even open his mouth to get a word in, she leaned in and placed a quick peck on his cheek. "I'll go get ready. Meet you out front in an hour!"

"But…" Warren finally managed to sputter, but she had already dashed off, brown hair swinging with the bounce in her step.

Warren sighed and shook his head in defeat, but still managing to smile with amusement. Well at least she'll be happy. Once again, he had proved himself a sucker for a pretty face. After all, men will also be men.

* * *

"It's true, it's much smaller than you'd imagine, but still beautiful," Warren declared. "One of the most amazing things I've seen in Paris, that's for sure."

Alana shook her head. "I can't believe it," she said, stirring the spoon around her cup of cappuccino.

After their brunch at a Chinese bistro, the two went on to have coffee and chat. They found common interest in exchanging stories about the sights they've seen in their travels around the world.

"I've been there like _three_ times already, but I never got the chance to see the Mona Lisa, or even step inside the Louvre, for that matter." She smirked. "Museum tours aren't exactly something you can squeeze into a fashion show schedule."

She paused and took a sip of her coffee. "It's amazing how I've been everywhere, but seen almost nothing."

Warren smiled. "You'll get your chance someday," he told her reassuringly. "You can travel again."

"Maybe," Alana sighed. "If I ever manage to crawl out of this shithole I've gotten myself into." The look on Warren's face made her add quickly. "I'm sorry, I mean…"

"It's okay, I know what you're saying," Warren reassured her. "I understand. It must be hard, having the press spread stories about you all over the news and just making a big deal over everything."

Alana made a face. "I never thought there'd come a day when I'd be running _away_ from cameras, and thinking of photographers as sleazy bastards." She gave a bitter laugh. "It's a shame actually. This is the most attention I've ever received throughout my entire career."

"Alana," Warren said gently, reaching over to touch her arm. "Your career doesn't have to be over. You can still get back after you've paid your dues."

"Obviously you know _nothing_ about the fashion industry," Alana told him, shaking her head. "I'm not carrying any more delusions of getting back into modeling. After everything that's happened, I'd have better chances of being elected President." She smiled weakly at her joke. "I just want to get my life back to normal, that's all."

"And we're doing our best to help you with that," Warren said quickly. "But you need to work with us, and that mean being open about everything." He hesitated. "Like that incident with Kitty and Peter. Why didn't you tell us you know how to light fires?"

"Not that again!" Alana groaned. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She was silent for a moment, staring at Warren as through gauging him, before she spoke again.

"Look Warren, I like you," she said. "You've been great, and you've done nothing but support me since day one. So I guess you can be trusted with some honesty."

She leaned forward. "The truth is, I didn't want to say anything about the cigarette lighting because I knew this would happen, that you'd all start making a big deal about it. And I was right about that, wasn't I?"

Warren frowned. "We're only making a big deal about it because we're concerned about you," he said. "If we're going to teach you how to use your abilities, then we're going to have to know what they are exactly."

"Yeah, but the more you find out about my powers, the more potential you start _thinking_ I have, the longer this whole process of mutant rehab is going to take," Alana pointed out. "I'll have to take more lessons and training, which means I'm going to have to stay in the school longer." She rolled her eyes. "At this rate, I'll be in my golden years before I can get my own life back."

Warren fell silent. He knew that he should try to reason her, to convince her that the X-men were just doing what was best for her, and therefore needed her full cooperation. But what Alana seemed to crave was the reassurance that she _was_ going to be able to get her old life back, to return to normalcy. Unfortunately, that was the one thing he knew he couldn't promise, nor could any one at Xavier's.

Someone was going to have to break the news to Alana that she was _not_ normal, and never will be.

Thankfully, Alana's cell phone started ringing, cutting into the lull in their conversation.

"Hello?" Alana's eyes brightened when she heard the voice on the other end of the line. "You're here? Great! Come meet us! We're here at Gloria Jean's. Level one, just near Macy's. Okay. See you then!"

She snapped her phone shut and turned to face Warren's questioning expression. "Okay, now don't get mad," she said slowly, her own expression becoming imploring. "It's not that I'm ditching you or anything…" She started talking faster now. "But I told this old friend of mine that I was getting the chance to go out today, and she really wanted to meet up with me. She's wanted to visit me for a while now, but with all the press hounds and everything…and she just happened to be in New York City for the weekend…"

"Whoa," Warren chuckled, raising a hand. "Who am I to get in the way of old girlfriends?" He smiled. "No problem. I'll leave you girls alone, give you enough time to catch up. Just give me a call when you're done or need anything at all."

Alana smiled back, looking relieved. "Thanks Warren," she said, squeezing his arm. "You really are an Angel."

Just then, she lifted her gaze and caught sight of a pretty, well-dressed woman in her mid-thirties, who had just walked into the coffee shop. She stood up immediately and waved her hand. "Claire!"

The newcomer beamed at the sight of Alana and walked right over, greeting her with a hug and kisses on both cheeks. "Alana. You're looking well at least." She smiled and cupped the younger woman's chin in a motherly fashion. "That's good, that's good."

She then turned her attention to the man who had also stood up from the table. "And who is this fine young man?"

"This is Warren Worthington. The third," Alana introduced. "He's a teacher at Xavier's. Warren, this is Claire Anderson, my agent and manager."

"Worthington," Claire repeated, her eyebrows rising as she and Warren shook hands.

Warren smiled, all too used to this reaction. "Of Worthington Industries, yes," he said lightly. "But I'm not longer affiliated with any of my father's companies."

Claire nodded. "I see."

"Well, I guess I'll leave you two ladies now," Warren said. "Alana, just give me a call when you're ready, okay?"

"Of course," Alana answered. "Thank you so much."

"No problem. It was nice meeting you Ms. Anderson," Warren added, offering them a parting smile before walking out of the coffee shop.

"It was my pleasure," Claire called after him, before turning to Alana with a grin. "Is he by any chance interested in getting into the business? I could always use another male model with shoulders and pecs like that."

"Claire!" Alana burst out laughing. "Forget it! I don't think he's even the least bit interested. He's far too pure for people like us. It'd be a shame to taint him."

"Hmm…" Claire said, as they sat down at the table. "At least you seem able to see the good side of the male species again. That's good. I'm glad that school's helping you recover in more ways in one."

"Oh, Warren's a great guy," Alana said simply. "It would just be too hard _not_ to like him."

"And what about the rest of the people there?" Claire asked, now looking at her with genuine concern. "Are they treating you well? How has your rehab been?"

Alana frowned. "What we do there…it's not like rehab at all," she said slowly. "It's more of mental training, and tests, and a whole lot of lecturing." She sighed. "I don't exactly get along with all the people there, and I just don't seem to be fitting in very well, but they basically they treat me just fine."

Claire patted her hand sympathetically. "Just hang in there," she told her. "Do as they tell you, be as pleasing and obliging as you can, and I'm sure they'll allow you to leave soon. They've no real reason to keep you in. And when you get out, we can pick up from where we left off."

Alana stared at her incredulously. "Are you kidding? Do you really think I can still get back to my career after all that's happened? It's _over_. There's just no way."

"Of course there is," Claire said firmly. "Honey, all this publicity over your mutant condition may seem negative now, but the point is, it's turned you into one of the most talked about celebrities in the business. You're more famous now than you ever were!"

Alana smirked. "Yeah, because now everyone knows I'm a freak. A dangerous one," she added bitterly.

Claire took Alana's hand and squeezed it. "But once we get you out of Xavier's, we can turn all the negative publicity around. We can say that you were able to beat the odds and recover from the mutant sickness. You'll be conquering hero then, not a freak. Someone to be admired and respected! You see? We can still make this _work_ Alana."

A hopeful look started to grow on the model's face. "Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely," Claire told her gently. "You are far too young and beautiful and talented to drop out of modeling. I won't allow it! You just have to get past this obstacle, and let me take care of the rest."

Alana smiled, deeply touched by her friend's dedication and loyalty to her. "Thanks, Claire. I…I really don't know what to say."

The two ladies spend the next couple of hours chatting some more before they realized how the afternoon had flown by.

"I really do wish we could have more time together, but I've got an appointment back in the city in a couple of hours," Claire said regretfully, as they walked out of the coffee shop together.

"I understand," Alana told her. "I'm just so glad we were able to get together at all." She hugged Claire tightly. "Come see me again when you can, all right?"

"Of course," Claire said, planting a kiss on Alana's cheek. "I'll always be in touch. And you just feel free to call me when you need anything, understand?"

"Excuse me. Alana?"

The two women turned towards the man who had just come up and spoke to them. Both were taken aback when suddenly they found themselves facing the lens of a video camera. Beside the cameraman was another who was unmistakably a news reporter. Paparazzi.

"Alana Stratford?" the reporter repeated, flashing them a toothy smile. "Hi. Alan Barker, Channel 7 News. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

It took all of Alana's composure to refrain from snapping at the man or even just rolling her eyes. She had experienced been in front of the camera for years, and knew that every movement was done in front of a rolling tape had to be chosen wisely.

"I'm sorry Mr. Barker, but not today," she told the reporter as politely as she could. "Now if you'll excuse us…"

Barker moved quickly to block them from brushing past him. "Just one little interview Ms. Stratford, please," he insisted, cheesy smile growing even wider. "Don't you want to let your concerned public know how you've been doing?"

"Fine," Alana said tartly, and made another attempt to move away. But when the obnoxious man stepped forward to block her way again, Claire wedged herself in between them.

"Claire Anderson, Ms. Stratford's manager," she said in a tone of unquestionable authority. "Any questions you have regarding her current condition, you may address them to me." She cast a discreet but meaningful glance at Alana. "Ms. Stratford is very busy as of the moment, and has some place else to be. I must _insist_ you let her pass so she can make her appointment."

Alana threw Claire a grateful look and immediately took the chance to slip away from the reporter and camera's reach. As she walked away, she could hear Alan Barker whining and trying to negotiate with her tenacious manager and guardian.

"But…Ms. Stratford! If I could just…"

"Either you take a statement from _me_, Mr. Barker, or none at all," Claire snapped.

Alana breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, her best friend managed to save her from another tight spot. It had probably been a bit foolish of her to go out in public without so much as a pair of sunglasses to conceal her identity, but she'd figured that the press wouldn't find or follow her here. This was supposed to be a quiet, low-key county after all. She'd just assumed she was safe from the scandal hungry hounds.

Clearly she had underestimated her own newsworthiness.

Deciding not to push her luck any further, she fished her cell phone out of her purse and started to dial Warren's number. When he picked up, she quickly asked him to meet her at the parking lot. They were going home.

However, as Alana stepped off the escalator that led to the ground floor, she was dismayed to see not just another TV news crew, but three photographers, probably all the way from New York City's sleazy tabloids. They started snapping away with their cameras the moment Alana came within focus.

"Ms. Stratford! Jessica Taylor, Channel 9 News." The female reporter shoved the microphone in her hand under Alana's nose. "You've been in rehab at the Xavier Institute for a week now. Tell us about the course of your therapy there. Is it true they are training you to _strengthen_ your mutation, instead of teaching you how to fight it?"

"No comment," Alana said, ignoring the microphone and ducking past the reporter without giving the camera so much as a glance.

"Alana! Alana, look this way!" one of the tabloid photographers shouted. Alana held her head stiffly and turned her face away from the camera flashes.

Her walk had doubled in speed now, as she was starting to panic. The cameras kept moving in front of her, making it difficult to evade the focus of their lens. Worse, these people all seemed intent on blocking her exit from the mall. They were not about to let her pass without getting the scoop they wanted.

"Ms. Stratford, please wait!"

Alana felt her face heat up with increasing frustration and annoyance when suddenly Alan Barker and his cameraman appeared out of no where from behind her and joined the line of people shoving themselves in front of her.

"I'm sorry, but I will be giving no statements today," she said loudly. She could already feel herself quickly losing control on her temper. She glared at the particularly obnoxious photographer. "And no more pictures, either."

"Just one question, Ms. Stratford!"

"How about a smile there?"

"Look this way please."

"Alana! Alana!"

"No! I said no!" Alana snapped, and tried once again to push her way through. This time, the TV reporters finally backed away, but two of the photographers kept on snapping away, walking beside her and crossing her path as she stormed her way to the mall exit.

"Come on, sweetheart, do something sexy!" the obnoxious one called out, grinning. "Give us a pose! Do something freaky!"

He stepped directly in front of Alana and snapped his lens close to her face, causing her to finally blow up.

"Stop it!" she shouted.

Before she even realized it, the man's camera was knocked out of his hands, and he was pushed back hard, stumbling a few feet across the floor before falling flat on his bottom.

Alana stared down at the photographer in horror, her face suddenly draining of color. What has she done!

The man lifted a shaky hand and pointed a finger at Alana. "You…you…!" he sputtered, his expression a mix of triumph and awe. "You _are_ a mutant!"

The rest of the paparazzi broke through their stunned silence and began crowding Alana again, much more fervently this time, shouting their questions and calling her name. Now desperate to get away, Alana pushed past them forcibly and made a break for the exit. She could sense them all chasing after her, just a few steps behind.

Heart pounding, the frightened girl burst through the mall doors and dashed down the steps leading to the street. The parking lot was just a few more feet away. If she could just get to her car, she'd be safe. She needed to get back to the safety of the mansion.

She paused and turned her gaze back to check if the paparazzi were still following her. Sure enough, they had also exited the mall, with their cameras all still aimed at her. She kept running.

"Watch out!"

The deafening sound of a car horn rang in her ears. She screamed and raised her hands instinctively. Something hard and heavy slammed onto her, seizing her around the waist and throwing her off her feet. At the same time, a dull but immensely excruciating pain shot throughout the entire right side of her body. She couldn't breathe. Her head spun with agony.

Her back was now flat on the hot concrete. Her skin felt warm and sticky in some places. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to register the face that was hovering just a few inches above hers. Though her senses were quickly failing her, there was no mistaking that hard face and gruff expression.

Logan.

Then all went black.

**To be continued…**


	8. Broken

**Chapter Seven – Broken **

"…_a shocking scene outside the Galleria Mall in White Plains, New York. Alana Stratford was reportedly shopping at this mall when she was ambushed by paparazzi photographers. Refusing to give interviews or have her picture taken, Stratford ran out of the building in an attempt to escape the cameras…"_

Warren felt his gut wrench as he watched the news footage flashing across the widescreen television in the headmistress' office.

The camera shot followed Alana bursting through the mall entrance and running straight out into the street. She casts a quick backward glance before stepping off the sidewalk, but does not slow her pace. A horn blasts, and the front end of a large delivery truck comes straight at her. She stands frozen. Then, out of no where, a man comes hurtling towards the defenseless woman. Throwing himself in between her and the speeding truck, he pulls her down in a tackle, but not before the truck catches him, slamming onto the right side of his body. Both Alana and her rescuer are flung hard to the pavement.

Suddenly, another man arrives at the scene, rushing to help the fallen pair.

Warren clenched his jaw as he recognized himself on camera, bent over Logan and Alana, frantically trying to see if they were okay.

Before the camera could get too close however, Logan is back on his feet. Blood is gushing from a gaping wound on the side of his head, but he appears to feel nothing. Shouting something to Warren, he picks up the unconscious Alana from the ground. Warren throws off his overcoat, and in a flash of white, his wings are freed from their harness. He takes Alana from Logan and immediately flaps his great wings. Once. Twice. At the third powerful beat, he and the woman in his arms are finally lifted off the ground. The camera follows him as he soars up into the sky, until he was just a moving speck in the distance.

With that shot, the news footage ended. The news anchor's face came back onscreen.

"…_while the identity of Stratford's first rescuer remains unknown, we were able to identify her winged savior as none other than Warren Worthington III, the mutant son of Warren Worthington Jr. of Worthington Labs. It is also unknown where Stratford was brought for medical treatment, but it can be assumed that they have taken her back to Xavier's School for Gifted Children, the mutant institute where she is currently undergoing rehab…"_

The television went blank as Storm flicked it off, cutting short the rest of the disturbing newscast. Warren continued to stare dully at the dead screen while the school headmistress sat in the chair opposite him in a huff.

"I know you meant well Warren," Storm began, her voice steady with control that was about to be lost. "But this…this was just _incredibly _irresponsible."

She sighed. "I mean, what were you thinking? Did it just slip from your mind who she was? Did you just happen to forget the kind of trouble she's had the press?"

She shook her head with an expression of clear exasperation. "If Logan hadn't been there, if he hadn't followed you to make sure you stayed out of trouble, then Alana would be…" She paused, almost to upset to continue. "…Alana would be _dead_."

Warren was silent for a long moment after that last word. "I'm not going to make excuses for what I did," he finally said. "I know I was careless, and I agree I'm the one to blame. I'm sorry."

His face was resolute when he added, "But you have to know that I never wanted to put Alana in any danger. She needed a day away from the mansion and I gave it. I only did what I thought would be good for her."

Storm sighed. "I'm sorry Warren, but I'm starting to wonder if you _do_ know what's best for Alana," she told him. "I know you want to put her at ease, win her friendship and trust…but giving in to everything she wants? That's not taking care of her."

"On the other hand, look at Logan," she went on. "He may not exactly be the kindest person towards her, but he does what needs to be done. He knows where to draw the line. Now unless you learn to do the same, I don't want you going anywhere with her without telling me first, understood?"

Warren nodded. "Of course," he said quietly.

Storm hesitated. "Warren," she said slowly. "I know telling you to stay away from Alana would just be wrong…but I do think it might be best if you just let her be for a while. I think she needs someone else to talk to right now, someone…"

"Someone like Logan," Warren finished for her.

Storm gave him a small smile. "Yes," she said. "You may not see it now, but Logan _is,_ in his own way, actually good at talking to people. I think he might just be able to get through to Alana in ways that none of us can."

* * *

Logan paused to put out his cigar before stepping through the doors that led to the mansion's subbasement infirmary. The room was nearly empty, save for the single patient that lay on one of the beds that lined the far wall of the room.

For some reason, Alana knew it was him who entered before she even saw his face. As he walked up to the bed where she rested, she turned to her side, facing her back to him.

Logan had to smile at her pride and stubbornness, even when she was down and hurt. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of himself. Spoiled princess though she was, Alana had a fighting spirit. He pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down.

"Please go away." Her voice was muffled against the pillow, but still sounded cold and forceful.

Logan crossed his arms and ignored her hostility. "What? No thank you Logan, for saving my life?"

In an irate and louder voice she snapped, "_Thank you._ Now _please_ leave."

Logan sighed. "Look, I'm sorry this had to happen. But the point is you've survived it, and you'll recover in no time. Now you have a choice of whether to learn from this or to keep putting yourself in danger."

"I did _not_ put myself in danger," Alana retorted, still refusing to face him. "Those reporters acted more aggressively than they ever did before. I thought I was safe."

"Well you're not," Logan countered. "Out there, you're _not_ safe. All right? The sooner you get that through your head, the better it will be for you and all of us."

"So what are you saying?" Alana said. "That I can't ever go out in public again? That I'm some sort of prisoner here?"

"No. No one's forcing you to be here," Logan told her. "_You_ came to _us_, remember? You asked us to help you. If you want out, then you can leave. None of us would stop you."

There was a long pause. "I hate you."

Logan grinned. "Well, no one's stopping you from doing that either."

At that smug comeback, Alana finally turned around to face him, allowing him to see her injuries and how they had been treated. Considering the death-defying injuries Logan had to sustain and self-heal because of the accident, she didn't appear to be too badly hurt in comparison. A large bandage concealed the ugly bruise on her forehead, and her porcelain skin was marred by a couple of cuts across her cheekbone. Her right forearm was in a cast and mounted on a sling.

The angry scowl on the young woman's face met Logan's smirk. Her mouth trembled, as did her voice as she spoke. "All I want is a normal life! Is that too much to ask?" Tears shimmered in her eyes, and her face started to turn red. The sight of it wiped the smile off Logan's face instantly. "Am I such a terrible person to want that?"

"No," Logan answered. "A normal life is what all the kids in this school want. But part of what they learn here is that a normal life just isn't possible for mutants. Since you're older, it's probably harder for you to accept that reality, but that doesn't mean you can escape it. You're a mutant. And now thanks to your little display in front of the cameras, it's been made known to the world."

Alana closed her eyes, and the tears began to flow down her cheeks. Seeing her in this pitiful state actually made Logan feel a twinge of sympathy towards her, but he remained firm in his stance. At least it was clear that his words were starting to get through.

"Why are you so afraid of accepting what you are, anyway?" he asked. "Being a mutant is not what it used to be. The humans are learning to understand us now. Our kind is being granted more and more rights each day."

"But you said so yourself!" Alana cried. "There is _no _normal life for mutants! I'll never be able to get back what I had. To go back to life before this whole mess happened."

"No. You won't," Logan said resolutely. "You'll just have to start a new life then."

Alana shook her head. "But this isn't what I wanted," she sobbed. "It's not. I don't want things to change. I don't want a new life. I don't _want_ to be a mutant!"

Logan felt his sympathy for her quickly turning into annoyance. "Well then, if you're not interested in learning to control and accept your powers, what else are you wasting your time here for? Since you obviously hate being a mutant so much, then the answer is obvious. Just take the Worthington cure and put yourself out of misery!" he snapped.

It was now Alana's turn to smirk. "God, how stupid do you think I am? What makes you think I haven't tried doing just that?"

Logan frowned. "Whoa, back up there," he said. "You're saying you _did_ take the cure? And it didn't work on you?"

The girl sniffed and raised a hand to wipe her tears. "It did…for a while," she said slowly. "For about three months, I think. And then my powers came back. That's why I lost control when I injured that photographer, and the asshole brought the case into court. All the while I thought my powers were already gone, so I let my guard down."

Logan looked astounded. "Why didn't you tell us about this before?" he demanded. "What else have you been keeping from us?"

At that question, Alana fell silent. She lowered her eyes and looked slightly uncomfortable, but she clearly did not want to say anything more.

Logan slapped a hand to his leg in frustration. "Damn it Alana, you have to be honest with us!" he exclaimed. "Once and for all, make up your goddamn mind about what you want! If it's help that you're looking for, then _let_ us help you!"

When she still refused to say anything, Logan let out a growl of exasperation and pushed his chair back. "Fine," he snapped. "You're not a kid anymore, so I'm not going to treat you like one. If this is what you want with you're life, have it your way."

He turned and walked to the doors, with full intention of leaving her to figure things out for herself. But he didn't get far until she suddenly spoke up.

"I was fourteen years old."

Logan stopped. He turned back around, but did not take a step. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she started back at him evenly. The tears were now cleared from her eyes, but she spoke with a softness that showed the sensitivity of what she was about to reveal to him.

"What?"

"I was fourteen," Alana repeated. "When my powers first came out." She took a deep breath before continuing. "My parents were already divorced then. I was living with my mom. One day my dad took me out to dinner and told me the truth about Uncle Chuck, that he was a very powerful mutant. Uncle Chuck was my father's cousin; that meant mutant blood ran in our family. Dad was worried that I might have inherited the mutant gene, and wanted me to be prepared."

"My mom was furious when she found out. They'd been fighting about it for years, whether to tell me about the family secret or not. My mom was deathly afraid of mutants, and hated the idea that I could be one of them. She was the opposite of my father—always in total denial of the possibility."

Alana's expression was taut now, as though it was taking great effort to keep the story going. "There was so much yelling going on, and my name kept coming up in their argument. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. I just sat on the floor and lost it. I was crying, but I just wanted to scream my lungs out. I never felt so angry and scared at the same time. And then…"

She paused to swallow hard. "Everything in the room just started shaking. But I didn't even notice it until the glass windows shattered. My parents came running in. They didn't feel anything downstairs, but they still assumed it had probably been an earthquake. I was the only one who started to realize that something was already happening to me. But I never told them."

All throughout this narration, Logan kept silent, strangely enthralled by her story. But at this point he felt the need to speak up about a thought that was bothering him. "So you _did_ lie to us," he said, eyes narrowing. "You told us you were twenty-one when your powers first came out."

Alana shook her head. "No, that was the _second_ time it surfaced," she said "After that first incident when I was fourteen, I was determined to whatever I could to keep it from happening again. I didn't understand what mutation was back then, but I sure as hell decided I didn't want to be mutant. So I got it in my head that maybe if I focused hard enough, I could hold it back and hide it. I could stop my power from developing."

She smiled weakly and glanced up at Logan. "And it seemed to work. For a while. Every now and then whenever I'd feel strong emotions, usually anger, I would accidentally levitate things, but even those instances stopped after a while. I convinced myself that somehow I had managed to beat my mutation. I was able to live a relatively normal teenage life after that."

"But then seven years later, it all suddenly burst out of me again. It happened while I was asleep. I had a terrible nightmare that I was being attacked, and when I woke up my entire bedroom was in shambles. The furniture was overturned, picture frames shattered, things thrown across the room, curtains ripped…" She shook her head. "I was terrified. It seemed that my powers were struggling to be used, to be let out of the cage I put them in. They never really went away."

Logan frowned. "That's because mutations _can't_ be held back. It sounds like you were just able to gain some control over your powers. To summon and block them at will."

Alana shrugged. "Whatever you choose to call it. The point is, I realized that I couldn't trust myself to keep my powers locked away forever. So when Worthington Labs came up with the cure, I jumped at the chance to take it and rid myself of the mutation once and for all."

She sighed. "But then the incident at the studio happened, and I was caught red-handed, my secret busted wide open for the public to see. When the judge found out that the cure itself failed to strip me of my powers, he ordered me to learn how to control them instead. So I was sent here."

"Jesus," Logan muttered, when she finally came to the end of her long tale. "You should have told us all this from the very beginning."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, it's not exactly the easiest story for me to relive and tell," Alana said bitterly. "Why? What does it matter? It doesn't change anything. I'm still a mutant either way."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Logan snapped. "You haven't even _begun_ to realize what all this means. What your powers are about. What they can do. What _you're_ capable of. "

He leaned close to her, his brow furrowed with the intensity of his stare. "You spend all those years suppressing them, pretending they don't exist. You even tried to use the cure to rid yourself of them. But they're still there inside you, and they're strong. They're _growing_. Doesn't that concern you even the smallest bit?"

_Sometimes when you cage the beast, the beast gets angry._

Logan could remember all too well the day he said these words to the Professor. He had never wanted to think about them again, yet here he was, faced with another situation that fitted that statement exactly. But this _wasn't_ going to be like last time. Not if he could help it.

Alana stared back at Logan, reading from the expression on his face as well as his sudden silence. "There's something you're not telling me," she said slowly. "What is it?"

Logan did not answer. Instead, he rose from his chair. "Get some rest," he told her simply. "I'm pretty sure Hank will let you out of here soon. You'll be back in your own room by tonight."

Alana sat up in bed, surprised by his sudden urge to leave. "Wait, where are you going?" she called, as the man turned away from her and headed for the door. "That's it? You get me to open up about so many personal things in my past, and then leave me to ponder over a pile of vague cookie-fortune crap?"

Logan paused at the doorway. "Well, I can tell you this. Don't waste any more time wishing you could go back to being a regular human, since that's obviously never going to happen now. You've got enough problems to deal with as a mutant. Right now, learning control over your powers is not so much for the sake of others, but more for your own."

"But what…?" Alana began, before Logan cut her off again.

"Don't worry," he said with a smirk. "We'll continue this later. I think I'm starting to enjoy our little conversations…now that you've learned to do some of the talking."

**To be continued…**


	9. The Beast Is Angry

**Author's Note: **Huh? What happened to the last chapter? Only three reviews. Was it no good, or did nobody just read it? It made me sad. I worked hard on that one. It was an essential part of the plot too.

Anyway, the credit for this chapter goes to those who reviewed, _Silveni, Commander Richie_, and most especially, _Silverwind24_, who is becoming my favorite reader! Thank you so much for the inspiring comments!

Please, PLEASE leave reviews, even quick ones, for every chapter, so that won't lose steam for this story. If you love it and want it to continue, then making comments shouldn't be so hard right?

Besides, you could leave your opinions on who should end up with Alana, since the love triangle is coming into full swing! ;P Enjoy this one!

* * *

**CHAPTER 8 – The Beast Is Angry**

Storm remained silent for quite some time even after Logan had finished relating to her all the information he had managed to get out of Alana. She glanced at Hank, who sat across the meeting room table from her. He looked calm on the outside as always, but Storm knew he couldn't be feeling differently from the way she was at that moment. Worried. And maybe even a little panicked.

Storm sighed and clasped her hands together. Though Logan had already uncovered a lot about their newest charge, there were so many other questions swirling around the headmistress' head. But there was one significant concern that bothered her more than the rest.

"Wait, if Alana's powers returned to her even after she took the cure, what does that mean?" she asked, looking back and forth between Hank and Logan. "Could the cure be only temporary?"

Hank looked somewhat dubious of the idea, but nonetheless it also seemed to perturb him. "Well, there haven't been any reports of other mutants' powers returning. Perhaps Alana was just an isolated incident. It could be that a resistance to the cure is simply part of her powers."

"Incredible," Storm said, shaking her head. "There's so much that she's capable of."

Hank smiled. "Well, I don't think she's going to run out of surprises for us anytime soon," he agreed. "But she's not the first student we've encountered who's shown unusual potential. Besides, nothing showed up in her medical tests to give any real reason to worry. Her brain activity, as well as the rest of her body functions, seems to be normal."

Seeing the doubtful look that stayed on Storm's face, he added, "But I'll run more tests, just to make sure. Maybe something's changed or been overlooked." He reached over and patted the silver-haired woman's hand. "Don't worry, Ororo. If there's anything _physically _unusual or wrong with her, I'll find it."

Storm smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Hank."

Logan raised his eyebrows as Hank stood up and gathered his things from the table. "But what if what's wrong with her isn't in the physical? What if it's in her head? After all, that's where her powers really come from, right?"

"Then it's out of my hands," Hank admitted. "I'm not the Professor. I'm not even a telepath. I can only go so far."

"I'm still trying to get a hold of someone," Storm put in. "It's a little difficult, since I don't know her personally. She just used to know the Professor. She's a very busy woman, but I expect to get a call back from her office, hopefully soon."

Hank nodded. "Then we'll just have to whatever we can, for now," he said. "The best we can. I'm sure this will work itself out eventually."

When Hank finally left the meeting room, Storm sighed again, slumping down slightly in her chair. This caused Logan to look at her with concern.

"You okay?" he asked, transferring to the seat Hank vacated, which was closer to her. "You look like something _else_ is bothering you. Haven't you had enough?"

Storm smiled weakly. "I'm really trying to stay optimistic about this, and not worry too much, but I can't help it," she admitted. "There are just a lot of other things that need answers."

"Like what? What else?"

"Well, for one thing, if Alana's powers came out as early as she says, then why didn't the Professor bring her here to the school?" Storm pointed out. "She was his _goddaughter_."

"I don't know," Logan said slowly. "But Alana said the she never told him about her mutation. She told us they hadn't spoken in years, remember?"

"But how could that be? You know the Professor." Storm argued. "Nothing would stop him from checking up on her, or from knowing. He could have just taken a glimpse into her mind even without her consent, and he would have found out the truth. And I don't believe he could have just left her on her own to deal with her powers."

"Well the way I see it, it can only be one of two things. Either he never found out at all, or he found out and just left her to figure things out for herself." Logan said. "Whichever it is, he must have had his reasons."

"But what then?" Storm murmured, her brow furrowing. "It just doesn't make sense…"

Logan smiled. "You know, I could go and try to wring some more answers out of the Ice Princess if you want them. I think I'm actually beginning to get the hang of dealing with her."

Storm laughed. "No, I'm sure she's had more than enough of your charm for today. She needs her rest. She's going to undergo another testing session tomorrow. I need to check if the trauma from the accident somehow affected her powers."

"You know, I was thinking," Logan began. "Maybe it would also help us find out more if we tried to test her resistance to the cure. After all, we have the source…"

"You know what," Storm interrupted him, grinning. "For once, I'm actually one step ahead of you."

* * *

"Alana, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, this is Alana Stratford."

Alana smiled at the teenage boy that Storm had just introduced to her. She held out her hand to him. "Nice to meet you."

The young man's eyes were curious and seemed star struck as they stared at her, but he shook her hand and managed a shy smile. "You too."

"Jimmy's powers are to negate or dampen the abilities of other mutants," Storm explained. "His DNA was the one used by Worthington Labs to create the cure…"

Alana nodded, only half-listening to the woman's explanations of what was supposed to happen that day. She's heard it already. Logan had explained it all to her that morning, before he accompanied her to the training room for her session. They were here to find out if she really was immune to the cure, by exposing her to the source itself.

"All right. Let's start then," Storm finally said, glancing at briefly at Logan, Kitty, and Peter, who stood at the sidelines. They had all come to watch and assist in Alana's session, and since the test subject put up no protest to this audience, Storm welcomed their support.

"Jimmy, take Alana's hand and just hold onto it for a while," Storm instructed.

Alana had to smile as the furiously blushing Jimmy took her good hand, allowing only his fingers to touch half of her palm.

"Come on," she told him with wink. "You can do better than that." She slid her hand fully into his, pressing their palms together reassuringly. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

"Now Alana," Storm was giving more directions. She pointed to the row of dodgeballs that were lined up in front of them, at the center of the room. "See if you can use your powers to move those. But don't let go of Jimmy's hand."

Alana took a deep breath. Staring hard at a selected target, she focused. After a few seconds, the centermost ball wobbled slightly, before finally lifting off the ground. It hung in mid-air then began to spin around in circles. One by one, the other five balls followed. Within a minute, all the dodgeballs were levitating as well, flying and rotating in orbits like a mini solar system.

"Good," Storm finally said, holding up her hand. "That'll do."

Alana loosed her mental hold, and the balls instantly dropped back to the ground, bouncing and rolling away. She let out a deep breath she didn't even realize she had been holding.

"Obviously it took you a lot more effort to do that than it normally would," Storm said.

Alana smiled weakly. "You think?" She looked at Jimmy, who was gaping at her slightly, shocked at what he had seen her do. "Good job! That was actually draining for me."

"But you're still able to retain your powers even when you're in this close contact to Jimmy," Storm pointed out. "The _only_ one who's ever managed resist his influence so far. It's no wonder the cure didn't hold on you."

She nodded at Kitty and Peter, who came forward to collect and put away the scattered dodge balls. Logan started bringing out the metal weights. "Now rest up a minute, and then let's try it on heavier loads…"

The exercise proceeded the same way for the next half hour. Alana lifted various weights ranging from fifty pounds all the way to two hundred pounds, keeping contact with Jimmy all the while. As they progressed, Alana could feel the mental exertion actually growing less and less, even though the load was getting heavier.

Logan was right. Her powers were growing. This made her feel somewhat nervous, though strangely pleased with herself at the same time.

"Well, it looks like you might just be able to take on your maximum weight load today," Storm remarked, after Alana set down three hundred pounds of steel plates. She shook her head, obviously impressed. "Can you do some more? Five hundred pounds?"

Alana nodded, inhaling deeply to shake off the strain. "I think so," she said. "Let's see."

"Peter?" Storm called. "You're up."

Kitty looked at Peter worriedly. "I don't know about this," she whispered to him. "She's struggling with control today. Are you sure it's safe for you to act as her barbell this time?"

Peter smiled at her. "Don't worry, Katya." His face morphed into a shiny silver-black color as he changed into his steel form. "We've done it several times before. Alana can't hurt me. Besides, I trust her."

"That makes one of us," Kitty muttered under breath, as Peter walked off to join Storm and company.

"Relax kid," Logan suddenly said from where he stood behind her. "Your boyfriend's gonna be fine."

His words took a moment to register, then Kitty whirled around instantly. "He's _not _my…" But her voice trailed off when Logan raised a knowing eyebrow at her. The girl flushed and turned back around quickly. Not another sound came out of her after that.

"Don't drop me," Peter told Alana jokingly, as she began to levitate him about a foot off the ground, rising higher and higher but slowly.

"Never," Alana promised with a grin. "You're too cute for that."

After a few minutes, she had lifted Peter up to a level of about five feet. Her hold on him was firm and steady, and the ease of her control both surprised and excited her.

"All right, you can hold him up to there," Storm said, bringing out a stopwatch. "I'll start time—"

"I can go higher," Alana said suddenly. Her eyes narrowed and she lifted Peter a several more inches upward, testing herself. This effort strained her, but she ignored it. "I can do it."

Storm looked dubious. "Are you sure?" she asked. "This is your maximum height, even without Jimmy's powers affecting you."

"It seems easier now," Alana said. "Much easier. I can push further."

_I want to. _

"Pete, are you okay with that?" Storm called up to the young man now floating about six feet above them. "Think you can handle it?"

"Sure," Peter answered easily. The ceiling was no more than fifteen feet high, and he had jumped down from much greater distances than that without hurting himself. "Go ahead, Alana."

"All right, then," Storm said. "But just take it slow. Carefully. And when you start feeling like the strain is too much, just stop it there. You don't want to overexert yourself."

_Sure, whatever._

In another few minutes Peter was hanging twelve feet above them, fixed solidly in midair as though a giant hand was holding him up as easily it would carry a feather.

"Whoa." Logan said, staring up at the sight. "We sure Jimmy's powers aren't making her _stronger_?"

Kitty frowned. "That's too high already," she said. "I think she should put him down now."

Alana's jaw clenched tightly. Her eyes squinted as she kept her gaze at Peter. Her head throbbed. Her brain actually felt like it was cramping up as blood pounded through it. Suddenly she was realizing how heavy the weight was. But it was still bearable. Something inside of her felt like she could do more. Push harder, lift higher. All she had to do was focus. Ignore the pain. Ignore everything outside of her.

"Alana. Alana, are you still okay?"

Storm's voice was calling her, but it sounded distant now.

_Just a little more._ It made her even more eager. Just a bit higher, and she could actually make Peter's head touch the ceiling. There was no reason to give up. She knew she could do it. Just a little more boost of power and control.

Kitty was the first to notice that something in Peter was changing. She shielded her eyes against the lights of the room and squinted up at him. The gleaming dark tint of his metallic skin seemed to be glowing. It was a dull glow at first, but then it gradually became brighter. Shiner. Reddish.

_Focus. Push!_

"Peter!" Kitty screamed.

They all watched in horror as Peter was thrown hard across the air, smashing hard against the thick, reinforced wall of the training room. There was a heavy crunch as he cracked and broke the concrete, then fell to the floor, crashing face down, his immense weight shaking the entire chamber.

Kitty, Logan, and Storm all rushed to their fallen teammate. The girl got to him first.

"Pete? Peter!" she cried, reaching out to grab his arm. She yelped recoiled just as quickly. Peter's metal skin was glowing with intense heat, as though he had been stuck inside a giant baking oven.

Peter groaned and sat up slowly. Holding a hand to his head, he shifted out of his steel form and became flesh again. His skin was slightly sweaty, but unscathed.

"You all right, kid?" Logan asked, kneeling beside him.

"I'm fine," Peter said, reassuring them with a weak smile. "Got the wind knocked out of me."

"Just stay put and relax for a minute," Storm told him. She then turned back to Alana, who stood frozen in place, still cluching Jimmy's hand. Her face was ashen with fear and shock. "What about you guys? Are you okay?"

"Is _she_ okay?" Kitty burst out. The petite girl stood up and glared furiously at the culprit. "What the hell did you think you were doing? Were you trying to _kill_ him? You were _burning_ him!"

Even Storm seemed shocked her heated outburst. "Kitty, stop," she said firmly. "Of course Alana didn't…"

She didn't even get to finish her sentence of defense for her charge. Alana had simply turned and ran out the training room.

* * *

Slamming the door shut behind her and locking it, Alana paused to catch her breath, which was lost due to her unbroken sprint upstairs to the safety her room. Her trembling legs caved under her and she slumped to the floor.

Even up to that moment she still didn't know what to feel. It had all happened so fast. But what _was_ that? What had she done? It was as if something had possessed her to keep going even though she should have just stopped. Then she lost control. She was such an idiot!

She scrambled towards her bedside table, where her cigarette case lay. She needed to calm her nerves, and fast. Her heart was still pounding, her mind racing. She could not believe what she had done to Peter. After he had been nothing but so nice and sweet to her.

She started sobbing as she pulled out a stick.

Logan was right. She was just being plain stupid if she still thought there was any chance of going back to her normal life. She was a mutant, and there was no running from it anymore. The best thing she could do for herself now was to learn how to control her powers. Maybe then she could find some use for them instead of always getting into trouble. How she wanted that so desperately now.

She held the cigarette up with shaking fingers. She focused on the tip. Then suddenly, she was blinded by a sharp flash of light. She screamed as a searing pain skimmed across the skin of her hand. A burning smell filled her nostrils and smoke stung her eyes. She coughed out the ash that had flown into her mouth.

Suddenly, Logan burst through the door, alerted by the sound of her cry. He saw Alana seated on the floor, clutching her left hand and grimacing in pain. He knelt beside her quickly.

"What happened?"

"The cigarette…" Alana whimpered. She opened her watery eyes and stared at the shiny red skin of her palm. "It…"

Logan frowned and took her hand gently. "Never try to light up anything again while you're in hysterics. Or use your powers at all. Your emotions make them unstable."

Alana sniffed and looked at Logan as he started examining her burnt hand. "Is Peter okay?"

"He's fine," Logan assured her. "It would take a lot more than a bit of roughhousing to make him feel any pain in his steel form."

"I didn't mean to hurt him," Alana whispered. "I thought I had it under control. I didn't know I was…that I could…"

"Of course you didn't," Logan said gruffly, but still sincerely. "It was an accident. We all knew that. Sometimes you just lose control. So stop worrying about it."

At that, Alana finally broke down in tears. As she trembled from her sobs, Logan sighed and sat down on the floor beside her. He was moment for a while as he gently cradled her injured hand in both of his.

"This isn't too bad," he said, touching the center of her palm lightly with a finger. He smiled a smile that she didn't see. "I gotta tell you, I'm a little disappointed. I thought you were a lot tougher than this. Now, you just cry too much. I think I liked the Ice Queen side of you better."

Alana finally raised her head. "It's not the burn," she said, trying to sound haughty, but her trembling chin gave her away. "What did I do down there? What's happening to me?"

"Your powers are just growing faster than we expected," Logan said simply. "That's why you have to train harder. You have to catch up to them. Rein them back in to your control."

"I'm scared." Alana whispered. "I feel like I'm losing it. I don't want to hurt anyone."

Logan looked at her silently for a long moment. At her ashen face, her look of desperation, at the tears shining in her green eyes. For the first time since he met her, she actually looked vulnerable. Something strange and new stirred inside of him.

"You won't," he finally said. "That's what you're here for. That's what _we're_ here for. To help you."

He started to get back on his feet. "Let's go to the infirmary and get something for that burn."

Alana recoiled when he tried to help her up. "No," she said. "I…I don't want to go downstairs. Not just yet."

Logan shrugged. "Fine, stay here. I'll go and get some medicine," he said easily, and headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

"Logan?"

He paused at the doorway. "What?"

She mustered up a smile. Shaky, but still beautiful. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Their gazes met, and it was his turn to smile, for reassurance.

"It's going to be all right, Princess. I promise."

**To be continued…**


End file.
